The boy that forgot to die
by evil minded
Summary: AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late? What could happen if he won't be able to help the son of his school nemesis? Story written for NaNo 2011 ... thanks for reading ...
1. face in the sand

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 2nd 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other persons in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

Also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within one month only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do appologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter one **

**Prologue – face in the sand**

Something was not right.

Something definitely was quite _wrong_.

He could feel it.

He could _sense_ it.

In the far-off distance, bells chimed, announcing midnight and welcoming another early Sunday morning, but he immediately knew – that was not what had awakened him. It rather had been a sense of foreboding seeping through his body that had disturbed his sleep, a sense of deathly foreboding that was spreading throughout his entire awareness and with a frown the Potions Master Severus Snape rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the grind that had crusted up in his few hours of slumber.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Little Whinging was lying dark and silent in the midnight hour. There was nothing except for the soft whisper of the wind that blew over tree tops and there was nothing except for a few moths that were captured by the soft glow of the few street lamps, soundlessly dancing around the soft orbs through the midnight air. There was no one in the streets at such a late hour – or at such an early hour, considering the point of view from anyone who might or might not have been there in this particular night.

But there was no one.

If there however _had been _someone here, then they would have heard the whispered words of _'no … please … no …'_ over and over again while the wizarding child clutched crooked fingers to his chest, long ago broken, one by one, while the wizarding child tried to hold onto life, tried to take one breath after another one, tried to stay alive – somehow.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Still frowning he threw the covers back and got off the bed only moments after the bells had stopped chiming, only seconds past midnight, only moments after the new day had come to life.

He left his bedroom and stepped out into the hall – the feeling of unease and restlessness gripping his chest in an embrace tighter and tighter until he had to hold onto the backrest of a nearby armchair to keep his balance and he immediately knew that something had happened, that something _terrible_ had happened, something _really_ terrible.

Only hours ago from the beginning of a new school year, only hours before the Hogwarts Express would leave Kings Cross, only hours before the school train would pull into Hogsmead station, and only hours before the great hall would be filled with students once more – and he knew that this year something would change completely.

He didn't like changes, even if he knew that he easily would be able adapting to them, but he didn't like changes. Changes only meant more complications and his life was already complicated enough. There was a meddling old fool of a headmaster who made sure of that and there were a few remaining Death Eaters who made sure of that as well.

And yet he knew – something _would_ change.

Something had happened

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

His chest hurt, but it always hurt lately and so that surely didn't matter anymore.

He also was hungry, but as he always was hungry that surely didn't mean anything either.

And something in his back felt wrong, felt broken, but he'd had so many broken bones over the past few years that this too surely didn't matter anymore. He was used to it and he only for a moment wondered what it would mean for him this time.

He tried to move, knowing that he should try to find a more comfortable position so he finally would be able falling asleep but he almost immediately realized that he couldn't and for another moment he wondered why, wondered if his uncle had managed to _really_ damage him this time – but he rather quickly stopped thinking about that for fear of making everything more real. He quickly pushed everything into the back of his mind – head in the sand. If he couldn't see uncle Vernon, then surely uncle Vernon couldn't see him either, and if he didn't think of what his uncle had done to his body now, then surely it wasn't done in the first place either.

And so – if he ignored the nearly unbearable pain – and the just as suffocating fear as well – then the pain and the fear surely were not there either, were they?

Instead he focused onto the lines he had read years ago, lines on a page that was worn meanwhile, that was yellowed and crumbled with age, a piece of parchment that was lacerated on the edges and stained from tears. He had read this page so many times that he already knew it by heart and now he focused on those lines with a heavy heart, knowing that they were from his mother who had died long years ago, knowing that they were written by his mother who had sacrificed her life for him, knowing that they were meant to comfort him – but at the same time knowing that they never would come true, not for him anyway, no comfort for _him_, _never_ comfort for him, because his mother had been wrong.

But they made him forget what could be wrong with him. Not for long though, he knew, but for just a little while, he could forget – for just a little while, he could dream.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The great hall wasn't filled with the students yet but there were already enough of them present so that a constant soft murmur was heard as a background noise.

A few of his Slytherins, including his godson, Draco, were sitting on their house table, quietly debating over something while looking strangely worried and he narrowed his eyes at them. If there was something his snakes worried about, then he would like to know about it so that he could help solving the problem, but they had not come to him to inform him of anything yet – a fact that was strange actually as normally Marcus, his prefect would have come to see him about any problems in his house, Cassandra, his other prefect – or Draco. But no one of his snakes had done so by now.

A few Ravenclaws, sixth and seventh years, were discussing animatedly, a few lower grade Hufflepuffs were sitting at their house table, whispering and looking quite scared somehow, and a few of the second and third year Gryffindors, including two third of the golden trio were sitting already at their own house table as well, whispering, and he wondered where the third and missing part, Potter, kept himself. It was a rare occasion after all that they were seen separated.

Well, by any luck Potter maybe wouldn't attend Hogwarts this year?

With a sigh he realized that he not only was being stupid and that Potter definitely _would_ be attending this year, but that he was unfair too. He disliked the boy, yes, but wishing he would be kept from Hogwarts, jeopardizing his education or even wishing something befalling him, it really was a bit excessive. While he personally didn't like the boy, he had to admit that there definitely were worse children here at Hogwarts than Potter.

Weasley for example, being rude and disrespectful, boisterous and lazy – or Anderson, being a bully and getting other children into not only trouble but dangerous situations as well – Higgins for example, who always cheated in his work, practical as well as in his essays, hoping to get through the year without having to lift a finger – or Crabbe and Goyle, being lazy and stupid, and _those_ two were in _his_ house. Potter neither was rude, nor a bully, he didn't cheat and, loath as he was to admit, he definitely wasn't stupid. He just happened to be the son of his school-days tormentor.

The Lazy part – that was correct.

But then – they all were, weren't they? At least most of them.

The sudden eerie silence that gripped the great hall made Snape looking up and his dark eyes scanned the four house tables quickly before they followed the gazes of the already present students, coming to rest on the double winged doors of the entrance hall – and he couldn't help blinking in shock for a moment before he had his facial muscles back under control.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_And either must die at the hand of the other_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**house cup**

_alright, the question some of you have put up in my head, about being Slytherin or Gryffindor - or maybe any other house - it never had left my head so far and so I have thought about something … I don't know if it even will work, but well -_

_starting on January first, 2012 - just give away the house you'd be in, in your reviews, and any house will get a oint per review … I'll add them together and then I'll start a house cup … like I said, I don't know if it will work even, if you like the idea - but well, I'll take the risk and try it …_


	2. and either must die at the hand of the

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 4th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwart

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other persons in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

Also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within one month only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do appologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Potter neither was rude, nor a bully, he didn't cheat and, loath as he was to admit, he definitely wasn't stupid. He just happened to be the son of his school-days tormentor. _

_The Lazy part – that was correct. _

_But then – they all were, weren't they? At least most of them._

_The sudden eerie silence that gripped the great hall made Snape looking up and his dark eyes scanned the four house tables quickly before they followed the gazes of the already present students, coming to rest on the double winged doors of the entrance hall – and he couldn't help blinking in shock for a moment before he had his facial muscles back under control. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter two **

**And either must die at the hand of the other**

_There_ he was, the third and missing part of the golden trio, Potter, entering the great hall, slowly and hesitantly – but what had him so shocked was the boy's appearance and for a moment he was sure that he had mistaken him for one of the ghosts as the boy definitely _was_ ghostlike. Pale, nearly translucent skin, so thin it was noticeable even through the clothes he wore and he actually wondered how the boy could be on his feet, dark circles the only colour in the pale face and even his green eyes were more a pale shadow of their previous startling emerald.

And it wasn't just as if he _seemed_ ghostlike. No – he actually _was_ ghostlike … what had been the reason as to why he had mistaken him for a ghost in the first place. The Boy Wonder, the Gryffindor Golden Boy, the Boy Who Lived, Potter – was not a living child anymore, he was not a living being anymore, no – he definitely _was_ a ghost. A dead ghost like the Bloody Baron or the Nearly Headless Nick.

And yet – the boy didn't float, he definitely was _walking_. Slowly and as if he would take his steps carefully, but he was walking on the ground, his feet definitely were _touching_ the stony floor of the old castle and when he entered, his hand for a moment brushed the doorframe of the entrance to the great hall, the pale hand not going through the wall like the hand of the Hogwarts ghosts would but brushing the dark wood, touching it.

He couldn't tell if any of the other students would be able touching the blasted boy or if Potter simply would _'__float__'_ through them, something he wasn't sure as – a ghost normally would do just that but well, Potter didn't float at all to begin with – and not to mention that … the other students seemed to definitely avoid him, seeing that they were sidestepping him. They definitely were scared of Potter, the ghost – or half-ghost.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He cast a quick gaze at Filius, seeing that the charms teacher was blinking at the boy in pure shock too and he shortly gazed at Sibyll who gasped and then scrambled to her feet with a startled scream before fleeing the great hall and he huffed at her typical dramatic antics. Rolanda as well was staring in pure shock at the entrance of the great hall, frozen to the spot – as seemed each and every present teacher except of Binns who looked rather unimpressed, seeing that he was a ghost himself.

And except for the Albus and Minerva, the headmaster and the deputy headmistress who weren't present yet – the others that were here … they gaped in disbelief at the Boy Wonder – or rather the Boy Ghost.

Well, where he always was one of the first, wanting to have an eye on his Slytherins – and the other students for that matter – just to make sure that they behaved, there Albus and Minerva always took a bit longer, going through the last preparations for the upcoming term, something that had become a routine and that allowed Albus and Minerva a bit of peace, knowing that someone was there who would interfere encase of trouble in the great hall while they were otherwise occupied still. Not to mention that Minerva had to take over the new first year students from Hagrid by the side entrance of the castle and bring them to the antechamber where they would have to wait for the sorting being prepared for them.

His gaze wandered towards Poppy and he noticed that the medi witch too looked shocked, her face having lost all colour and she threw a startled gaze at him, Severus, a nearly scared look on her face, but otherwise she too seemed rooted to the spot, frozen like the rest of the staff, unable to move or take any other steps in what might be necessary in such a situation. Not that _he_ knew what would be necessary – or otherwise appropriate – in this particular situation as he simply never had faced such a situation at all, but well, that was neither here nor there.

Well, at least he now knew _why_ his Slytherins seemed so worried without having addressed him of their worries. Potter being a ghost _was_ a worrisome thought to begin with while at the same time – it wasn't a matter of the house of Slytherin and so there was no need to inform their head of house while they were free to speculate and whisper around.

Looking back at Potter he noticed that the boy nearly had reached his place at the Gryffindor table, Granger and Weasley both looking uncomfortably at their friend and Weasley actually scurried away a bit when the boy intended to sit beside him while Granger watched Potter with scared large eyes – as did nearly every other student present in the great hall, never mind what house from.

Potter slumped his shoulders, as if in defeat and then sat down a bit away from them, his gaze kept at the table in front of him, his hands held in his lap, and he looked quite miserable. Understandable so, he couldn't help thinking. Did Potter even know what had happened to him? Did he even realize that he was – dead, somehow? Did he know to what extent he was dead or not dead?

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Sitting at the Gryffindor table, the boy was close enough now so that he could have a closer look, and this time he was sure that the boy indeed _was_ a ghost – sort of at least, as ghosts normally neither could walk on the floor nor could sit on a bench while actually touching it. They floated, hovered, stuck their heads through walls or tables and the seriousness of the situation suddenly hit him with full force – Potter somehow was dead.

Potter somehow had managed getting himself killed and he somehow had managed – again – to go against all rules of normality, being able to walk and to sit, even as a ghost. But as a ghost, the boy definitely _was_ dead.

The question was – how had he become a ghost in the first place? What had kept him from going on to the land of the dead? What had kept him here in the world of the living? People said that ghosts couldn't go on while they had unattended business still in the land of the living, things they hadn't done while being alive and able doing them. Was it true, he wondered for the first time, and if – then what was it Potter had not done?

'_And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives'_

Was it that? Was it the prophecy that had kept the boy from going on? Could fate be so cruel to keep the boy from finding his peace just because he had not vanquished the Dark Lord for once and for all? Could …

And what exactly had happened to kill Potter? The boy looked horrible. Not only the thin form indicating that he hadn't had much to eat during the summer holidays – if anything at all, he suddenly thought, but the dark circles beneath his eyes indicating that he hadn't had slept much during his holidays either. He also could see a few bruises on the ghost-like face, and he wondered where they came from, what had happened to the boy and if they would be able to heal them at all or if the Boy Ghost would have to wear them for the rest of his time, if it would be eternity like with all ghosts or just a destined time span before he would – what? Die? Vanish? He didn't know.

And then the clothes Potter the ghost was wearing. They were atrocious at the best, horrendous. Not only too large, the Jeans hanging around the small form in rags and the – just as ragged – t-shirt nearly reaching down to his knees, but they also were worn and stained, with holes in them and narrowing his eyes he even was able to recognize blood dotting the grey shirt. His eyes wandered downwards beneath the table, just to make out grey and dirty trainers that had gaping holes too, one even big enough for his toe to stick out of it while the other trainer was halfway losing the sole that hung from the shoe – while the boy's legs were dangling from the bench, not even reaching the floor yet.

Had Potter always been so small?

With a frown he looked up, into Potter's face again, trying to find out if he somehow looked younger than he remembered, but while his glasses were missing, he didn't look any different from what he remembered the boy from two months ago, before he had left for the summer holidays – except for the boy being a skeleton nearly – and a ghost apparently, and except for the bruises on the pale and thin face.

But except for _that_, he neither looked any different, nor did he look any younger. How was it that he now looked _smaller_? Or had he really always been so small and he just never had paid any attention to it? Had never noticed? Had _anyone_ ever noticed, he suddenly wondered with another frown.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He didn't really understand the situation.

Potter looked as if – he looked like some of his Slytherins before he picked them up for the train ride – to make sure they were dressed properly so none of the other houses would laugh at them, to make sure that they were cared for, that one or another injury they had sustained from their families during the holidays were cared for, and that they had something to eat for the train ride. But …

Potter was none of his Slytherins!

Potter lived with his aunt and uncle who surely spoiled the boy rotten, who surely never would neglect or beat the boy like some of the parents from his Slytherins did. But …

How had those bruises come to Potter's face? How was it that he looked as if he hadn't eaten anything in months? How was it that his clothes looked as if coming out of the garbage can? How …

As calmly as possible – even if he felt anything else than calm in the first place – he got off his chair, and left the head table. He didn't even know what had to be done right now, but he knew that something, anything _had_ to be done to begin with and no, he was _not_ Potter's head of house, but he still was a teacher here at Hogwarts and he was a head of _any_ house after all, not to mention the resident Potions Master who worked together with Poppy in the infirmary at a regular basis to begin with.

_And_ – not to mention that he simply couldn't help thinking of Lily, of how sad she would be at seeing her son dead, being a ghost – and such a neglected ghost no less, and suddenly he couldn't help thinking that Potter's death surely must have been anything else than pleasant. And again he wondered why his spirit had not left this earth, why it had stayed behind, what unclosed matters had kept the boy from leaving, wondered how it was that the boy had left the place where he had died in the first place. It wasn't normal for a ghost to leave the place where he had died after all and he was sure that Potter hadn't died here at Hogwarts. But _how__ had_ he died? _Where_ had he died? And _when_ had he died? Where was his dead body? What in Merlin's name had happened?

And as strange as it was – the only answer that nagged at the back of his mind was – Petunia Evans, now Dursley.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_He wasn't suicidal after all, was he?  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you


	3. he wasn't suicidal after all

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 6th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Suddenly he couldn't help thinking that Potter's death surely must have been anything else than pleasant. And again he wondered why his spirit had not left this earth, why it had stayed behind, what unclosed matters had kept the boy from leaving, wondered how it was that the boy had left the place where he had died in the first place. It wasn't normal for a ghost to leave the place where he had died after all and he was sure that Potter hadn't died here at Hogwarts. But how had he died? Where had he died? And when had he died? Where was his dead body? What in Merlin's name had happened?_

_And as strange as it was – the only answer that nagged at the back of his mind was – Petunia Evans, now Dursley._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter three **

**He wasn't suicidal after all, was he?**

Harry could feel all eyes on him, and honestly, he couldn't blame them, not this time after all and he lowered his head. Surely one didn't see his classmate like this every day, after all. Again he had managed to get himself into a mess, like always, he just wasn't sure yet what kind of mess he actually was in.

Of course he knew that there was something wrong with him. And he of course knew that he – somehow at least – was _dead_ – sort of. He had seen his body lying in the cupboard, for Merlin's sake, but he wasn't entirely sure of _how_ dead he was, as his body had been still breathing.

For a moment he shuddered at the memory before shrugging his shoulders. He couldn't change it anyway.

But then – maybe he should tell a teacher? Maybe someone should go and get his body from the Dursleys? But what would they do with it then? And was it not dead meanwhile? Surely it was? Surely it couldn't be alive anymore? After everything? And after uncle Vernon had been there to …

He hadn't dared touching his body back then, when he had been in the cupboard with it, had crept away from it as far as possible and honestly, he hadn't been able to sleep at all during the past two nights, with his own body so close, had barely been able to take his eyes away from the mess that had been his body.

He was even sure that his body had stopped breathing a few times last night. But then it always had started breathing again at one point or another, however _that_ had been possible, he didn't know. It only had stopped breathing for sure at one point or another during the early morning hours this morning and he had been scared to death, really. Or he would have been scared to death if he hadn't been dead already, he didn't know. He had tried to – carefully, mind you – poke his body, had called a soft _"hey, __you__…__"_ and had tried to make it breathing again, but it hadn't. He rather had been lucky that his uncle hadn't heard him calling out to his own body, really.

Not that he wouldn't have understood his uncle getting a heart attack at _that_ sight, his nephew talking to his own dead – or halfway dead – body, but well – he just knew that a heart attack only would have ended up in another beating, his uncle recovering from his heart attack within a few seconds to advance on him.

And well, it _had_ started breathing again however, his body, at one point or another during the night, but then, this morning, uncle Vernon had opened the cupboard, had tried to get his body out of there and he _really_ had been scared by _that_, had come closer again to somehow keep his uncle from taking his body away.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The moment he had come closer and his uncle had seen _him_, he had released his body so quickly that he had heard a soft 'thud' when it had hit the floor, had heard the sound of yet another bone breaking while his body again had stopped breathing and his uncle had looked at him, Harry, _this_ kind of Harry he was now, and he had paled and then he had stumbled backwards. It had been the first time that he had seen his uncle scared and for a moment he nearly had smiled at that picture.

But then his uncle had taken the cane and had started to come close again, screaming at him, that he had to leave his house immediately, that he wouldn't have a ghost living in his house, and he had lifted the cane, had started advancing on him with it, and he'd been so scared back then. Well, he always was scared out of his wits when uncle Vernon came close with his cane.

He hadn't understood what uncle Vernon had meant with _'__a__ ghost__'_. He wasn't a _ghost_ after all, because ghosts normally couldn't walk and sit and touch things, but _he_ was able to. He could walk on the floor and he could sit on the bench – even if Hermione and Ron didn't seem to like this. But he _could_. And he also could touch things, and himself even, his clothes and his face or his hands his hair, his skin. So – surely he wasn't a ghost?

But then – well, he had to admit, whatever he was, he _was_ ghost-like, somehow. He didn't really understand it, but it hadn't been important back then at all. The words uncle Vernon had screamed at him, and the cane he had held in his hand, _that_ he definitely _had_ understood however and he quickly had fled not only the cupboard, but the house as well, worried about leaving his body behind at the Dursleys, but his fear of uncle Vernon and his cane simply had been too much, because he knew how badly _that_ hurt.

And so he had left his body behind – or rather he had left his _other_ body, whatever it was – laying there behind, running from the house as fast as he could and then lingering in the alley, worrying over his body and worrying over what to do next, over how he would get to Hogwarts – or if he was even still allowed at Hogwarts, without his body.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Feeling a piercing stare at him, studying him, scrutinizing him, he looked up and his eyes met the dark ones of Snape – and he shuddered.

Not only did Snape look as foreboding as always, but he also looked particularly dark and sour today – and shocked, a thought that nearly made him laugh at that expression. He never had seen the man – shocked, and he couldn't help noticing that it was unbecoming for Snape's normally so strict and harsh face.

But then – he knew what it felt to be laughed at because someone's appearance and he knew that it hurt. He always had been laughed at because of his clothes and because he looked like a mouse in the skin of an elephant and he wouldn't do that to someone else, even Snape. Although it wasn't so much Snape's actual looks that made him so cold and harsh, or right now rather dazed. It rather was his grumpy and snarky, mean-spirited personality.

Why was Snape such a petty cruel and mean soul, anyway?

And what were the Dursleys about to do with his dead body?

Was his body even dead yet? Surely he wouldn't be able to feel and think the way he did right now if it were?

Well, dead or not, he nevertheless somehow feared what his relatives would do with his dead body. Maybe they would burn it? Or they would hastily bury it someplace? Or would they … for a moment he shuddered … surely they would not continue beating his dead body? And for a moment he was so shocked and so scared, he actually had troubles breathing at the mere thought of it.

"Mr. Potter." He heard Snape's voice from behind him and forcing himself back to reality, to the here and now, away from the thought of what horrible things the Dursleys could do to his dead body, he turned, looking up at the Potions Master who stood there, behind him, looking down at him calmly with his coal-like black eyes.

"Follow me, please, Mr. Potter." Snape said, fixing him with his black and cold eyes for a few more seconds before he turned and strolled out of the great hall, not looking back as if he were sure that he would follow him obediently.

Well, of course he did. He wasn't suicidal after all and dead or not – it surely was enough, he didn't need to die more than he already was.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He watched Potter for a moment while standing so close behind him, his dark eyes narrowed at the Gryffindor brat, and not only because he was curious of how ghost-like he might look from a closer point of view, but also because he wanted to have a closer look at any more possible injuries he might find from this close position.

And yes, the boy definitely looked just the more ghost-like from such a close point of view than he had looked before, the skin on the boy's neck clearly _half_-translucent, as if the molecules were constantly wavering and changing their position to regroup anew somehow, but the skin wasn't _completely_ translucent like it would be with a real ghost. And neither was his clothing, by the way. It was rather – as half translucent as was his skin – and his hair.

He narrowed his eyes at the boy's neck, easily noticing the bruise that strangely looked like a finger print of an adult's hand and he had to keep himself from reaching out to brush some strands of hair aside for closer inspection. The boy definitely had been beaten, that much was sure and he had been beaten at a regular basis during the past few weeks, he was sure of that as the bruises on his face and his neck were in different stages of healing. He also had been choked, considering the finger prints on the skinny neck, and he had been starved, considering how skinny said neck was – and the entire boy. The black hair dead somehow, the clothes ragged and the boy himself bruised and skeletal – it was clear that it was the doing of not only a few days but weeks – and therefore, the doing of the adults around the boy, his relatives. He knew those signs, he had to deal with them often enough after all, but – with Potter?

He would like watching the teen a bit longer, but he noticed that there was a slight panic beginning to form, the boy gripping the shirt over his chest in a death-like grip, his breathing coming in short and ragged gasps. So, even if he didn't know what exactly had caused the panic, he cleared his throat to get the brat's attention – and therefore to get him out of his current thoughts – and his starting panic attack, but there was no reaction except of the teen's muscles tensing up and he sighed, taking a step closer.

"Mr. Potter." He called the boy by his name and finally Potter turned and looked up at him, the green eyes as dead somehow as was the remainder of the boy, but not as dead so that they wouldn't express a fear and a deep horror that had even him, Snape, startled upon looking into them. It was a kind of fear and a kind of horror he didn't even know from his Slytherins, and his frown deepened. It might be Potter, yes, but Potter was just as much a child as were his Slytherins, he suddenly realized, and right now he was a child that was – well, dead, as it seemed. A child that had been neglected at the best and abused at the worst – and to the point of death, as it seemed, something that did not sit too well with him and he actually felt ill to the stomach.

Well, nothing new here, he always did.

"Follow me, please, Mr. Potter." He said, trying to sound not only calm but gentle somehow as well. Again, it might be Potter, but _if_ he was right – as small as this chance actually was, because surely Potter wasn't abused – but if he _was_ right, then anything else only would have startled and frightened the boy and therefore would have been inappropriate. He watched the boy's pale face for a few moments more before he turned and left the great hall, knowing that the teen would follow him, while he at the same time wondered – and not for the first time – did the boy know what had happened to him? Did the boy know how he had died? Did the boy even know that he _had_ died to begin with?

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_You still have your green eyes  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you


	4. you still have your green eyes

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 8th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"Follow me, please, Mr. Potter." He said, trying to sound not only calm but gentle somehow as well. Again, it might be Potter, but if he was right – as small as this chance actually was – but if he was right, then anything else only would have startled and frightened the boy and therefore would have been inappropriate. He watched the boy's pale face for a few moment more before he turned and left the great hall, knowing that the teen would follow him, while he at the same time wondered – and not for the first time – did the boy know what had happened to him? Did the boy know how he had died? Did the boy even know that he had died to begin with? _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter four **

**You still have your green eyes**

Tiredly Harry stopped after he had crossed the entrance hall behind Snape, closing his eyes for a moment and savouring the feeling of simply having them closed and taking a rest, leaning against the wall beside him, but then he forced them open again, knowing that it wouldn't do any good to have his eyes closed in the presence of an adult. He needed to see what they were doing to keep himself safe – if he had learned nothing at all at the Dursleys' household, he at least had learned _that_ pretty soon. Never close your eyes in the presence of an adult, never turn your back on an adult and never open your mouth in the presence of an adult if you could prevent it.

A moment later he jumped nearly out of his pants when Snape's larger hand came close and then was placed on his shoulder heavily while the Potions Master's deep and dark voice called out his name again. He had enough bad memories about his uncle grabbing him from behind and shoving him into a corner, beating him, so that he could feel his heartbeat racing for a moment at the unexpected touch and he only could hope that Snape had not noticed his fear. Because an adult noticing your fear only means that everything becomes worse, much worse.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"A little bit touchy today, Potter?" Snape asked, his eyebrow lifted at the brat and he had to do his best to keep his face indifferent, to keep his shock and his worry hidden from the boy. Well, he knew that Potter right now surely would have enough on his head so that he wouldn't need having to deal with his, Snape's, shown emotions added to his own fear and unsureness.

That was one of the reasons he always kept his indifferent mask, after all, because there were a lot of his Slytherins who needed him collected and professional, Master of the situation and his emotions instead of emotional and insecure himself, not knowing how to help his students. Taking a deep breath he concentrated back onto the present situation.

So – Potter was a ghost that not only could walk on the ground and sit on the bench in the great hall, but that could be touched as well. That definitely was interesting and he wondered in what other points the boy would differ from a normal ghost as well. What was it with Potter, always being an exception?

But then he sighed.

Loath as he was to admit, but he was sure that – at least this time – it wasn't Potter's fault, whatever _it_ was. Surely the boy had not planned on dying, and above all surely not in such a way that certainly had not been pleasant, starving to death or something like that, and surely the boy had not planned on being an exception even as a ghost. Actually – the boy looked just as startled as was he, Snape. He looked startled, scared and frightened, unsure and again – he wasn't even sure if the boy knew what _exactly_ had happened to him at all.

What had caused his death anyway? Had he been starved to death? Had he been choked to death? Or beaten to death? He doubted the last part, but the first two – they could be possible from what he could see.

"Sir?" Came said boy's low voice and looking down at Potter who still stood beside him, he saw the boy's worried face, noticed his own face had gone soft while thinking and with a scowl he schooled it back into his usual indifferent mask. "Is something wrong?"

Snape nearly laughed at that question.

The blasted boy was - _dead_, for Merlin's sake, he was dead and _he_ asked if there was something wrong? And with him, Snape, no less? How could this blasted brat ask _him_, _Snape_, if there was something wrong while _he_, _Potter_, was dead? Had died under only Merlin knew what circumstances? Being starved to death? Or choked to death? He didn't know which?

Once again he regarded the boy with a thoughtful look in his dark eyes. Aside from looking scared and startled Potter looked pale and tired, exhausted beyond anything he ever had seen on a child's face, he looked hungry and narrowing his eyes at the boy he noticed that the pale face looked thinner than _any_ face should look, that the _entire __boy_ looked thinner than any human being should look, that he looked skeletal at the best, thin shoulders and arms being hidden beneath his atrocious clothes. Had the boy _really_ died because of this? Because of lack of food? Had he really been starved to death?

But who would do such a thing to a child? He had been with his relatives over the summer holidays. He had been with Petunia Dursley, Lily's sister for the past two months and surely Petunia would care for her sister's son! Even if she maybe would not love him, but surely she would _care_ for her sister's son!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Of course he knew that Petunia hated magic. She always had hated magic and this hate had turned into hating Lily even, her own sister. And therefore he also knew that it _could_ be possible – at least if he now thought about it, with Potter's dead, or half-dead, or whatever it was appearance – that Petunia also did hate her nephew for being a wizard.

But – surely she would not go as far as starving her own nephew to death? Surely she would not go as far as choking him to death? Or beating him to death? If that had been what had killed Potter, he didn't know yet. Surely Petunia still would care for her own nephew, wouldn't she? Surely she would provide a child with what he needed for living?

But then – why did the boy wear such atrocious and worn clothes in the first place? And why did he look as if he hadn't had _anything_ to eat since at least two months? He knew that Potter always had been skinny – but never to such an extent! Never before had he looked like a skeleton like this.

His eyes still narrowed he now as well couldn't help thinking that the boy definitely looked as if he were in pain and again he noticed the bruises on the boy's face. Had he really been beaten? Had he really maybe even been beaten to death? He didn't look like it, but he also knew that the boy's clothes could hide anything. But if – then when? And by whom? If he had been starved at the hands of his relatives and if he had gotten those horrible clothes from them too, then maybe they had beaten him as well?

And again he couldn't help thinking that – surely Petunia wouldn't do such a thing? Lily's sister? She had a son of her own too after all and as much as he personally disliked her, she surely would not abuse a child in such a way in front of her own son's eyes? But what of Petunia's husband? That oaf of a man named Vernon Dursley?

And yes, he of course knew that she was married and that her husband was Vernon Dursley, the director of a firm called Grunnings that made – _drills_. He huffed for a moment at that. So – no, he didn't really think that Petunia would be able killing her nephew, or that she even had planned on it, but Petunia wasn't the only adult in the household. And at the present time, everything spoke of an adult having caused Potter's death as no twelve year old child would be able carrying out his own death by himself like this. And seeing that he did not know Vernon Dursley, Petunia's husband too well, not good enough at least so that he would be able to bet his life on it, having met him just once while Lily had been alive still – well, everything seemed to hint at murder – somehow at least.

Lily –

Lily. It was that thought that made him frowning at the boy and for the first time since he first had met him he realized that Potter was Lily's son as well as Potter's. Harry Potter was not only the son of James Potter, his childhood nemesis, but the son of Lily as well, the son of his childhood friend, of the woman he had loved, he still loved, even while she was dead since years now, even after all this time. _This_ was the boy he had promised to keep safe for Lily, and this was the child that had Lily's green eyes, not Potter's brown ones.

And he, he – Snape, he had failed, seeing that Potter was dead.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"You still have your green eyes." He softly said, still lost deeply in his thoughts while he gazed into the boy's green eyes calmly. They were paler than they had been – but they still were green.

Was there a flicker of fear in the boy's eyes at his words? If yes – then why?

"Come now, Potter." He softly said, not able to show the same dislike towards the boy he once had done and with a swish of his robes he turned and hurried down the corridor that led to the infirmary before the blasted child might find out that this dislike had vanished within minutes, had been destroyed and shattered like one of the glass vials he had thrown at the wall so many years ago, after Lily's death – it was one thing having lost his hate, but it was an entirely different thing having Potter to know about it.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_He didn't understand  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you


	5. he didn't understand

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 10th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"You still have your green eyes." He said, still lost deeply in his thoughts while he gazed into the boy's green eyes calmly. They were paler than they had been – but they still were green._

_Was there a flick of fear in the boy's eyes at his words? If yes – then why? _

_"Come now, Potter." He softly said, not able to show the same dislike towards the boy he once had done and with a swish of his robes he turned and hurried down the corridor that led to the infirmary before the blasted child might find out that this dislike had vanished within minutes, had been destroyed and shattered like one of the glass vials he had thrown at the wall so many years ago, after Lily's death – it was one thing having lost is hate, but it was an entirely different thing having Potter to know about it._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter five **

**He didn't understand**

Strange, really, Snape's behaviour tonight.

Of course he had noticed how Ron had kept his distance on the train – as had Hermione, and after a few minutes of openly staring at him both had left the compartment, had settled on the corridor instead. He couldn't blame them though, really. Who would like being so close in a compartment together with a ghost and a ghost that happened to be your friend no less? It was strange enough and so – no, he really couldn't blame them. And then in the great hall everyone had whispered and had stared at him – again, like so often, and again, he hated it.

_And_ – again, Ron had kept his distance to him at the Gryffindor table, had scooted away a bit even when he had sat down.

So – yes, Snape of all people being, sort of – _kind_ to him while his own friends avoided him, it was definitely strange.

Why had Snape called him Mr. Potter twice now already instead of Potter? Snape never called him _Mr. __Potter_, for Snape he simply was _Potter_, an annoying and irritating student he hated for reasons he didn't really understand. Maybe Snape knew? Maybe he knew and …

Again he remembered, remembered his mother's words written on a yellowed parchment, written on a parchment that was old and crumbled, words that surely were meant to comfort him, to bring him – some kind of future. But there was no future, not for him anyway. And there never would be a future for him either. If he had learned nothing over the years with the Dursleys – he at least had learned _that_. There never was future for _him_.

His steps slowed down and he allowed himself to remember.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Aunt Petunia always had told him that he was worth nothing, that he was too stupid for anything and that he never would be able doing anything right, she often enough had showed him by pushing him away that he never would be able making them proud or that he even was worth being loved – she always had made clear that he never would be anything else than a freak. A freak that did freakish things, a freak that had to be punished to get the freakishness out of him. And nothing else had happened. He only had been punished.

Well, he wasn't stupid, and he was a twelve year old boy – at least he used to be, whether he was dead now or not – so yes, he knew that it wasn't normal what his aunt and uncle did. Of course he knew that other children were not beaten like he was, not in the same way at least, but maybe it just was because – other children surely had not to be punished like he was because they were good children? He was a freak, and he was a bad child, he was not a good child like Dudley was and like Ron surely was, and like Hermione was.

He simply _had_ to be punished.

Aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon both had never had any other chance than punishing him, even if they always had done so in different ways.

Aunt Petunia always had used something to hit him with. It had started with a newspaper when he had been two and had dropped the glass of water he'd tried to drink from while Dudley had kept on poking him and it had moved on to harder and more painful objects as he had gotten older, like a wooden spoon, a spatula or a brush. He soon had learned that aunt Petunia most likely was too weak to really hurt him with her bare hand, that she didn't have the strength to physically do any damage to him, that she would have hurt herself only in an attempt to hurt _him_ _– and_ that she really hated touching him too. The last thing he had been beaten with by her had been the frying pan – shortly before he had been to Hogwarts last year and this summer again.

It was completely different with uncle Vernon though.

Uncle Vernon surely was not too weak to hurt him physically, und he surely wasn't afraid of touching him either. No – uncle Vernon just didn't think that using his hand or a wooden spoon only would be enough to get the freakishness out of him, and so he liked using a cane or his belt.

Not that the frying pan from aunt Petunia hadn't hurt, or the wooden spoon or the spatula. And worst was the brush, but a swing or two with the pan or the brush from aunt Petunia was nothing to a leashing or caning from uncle Vernon. Because he knew – uncle Vernon wouldn't stop anytime soon, uncle Vernon never had any qualms if he drew blood or broke a bone and most of all – uncle Vernon simply loved hearing him screaming and crying and begging, he knew that, he loved to make him crying and writhing on the floor with pain.

The worst thing was – he wasn't able to keep himself from screaming with pain and he wasn't able to keep himself from crying with pain either, from begging his uncle to stop, but his uncle never stopped simply because he begged, on the contrary. Uncle Vernon loved it, enjoyed it and savoured his begging as if he got an orgasm from it. And yes, he was twelve, he knew what an orgasm was, he wasn't stupid.

Well, the same was with Dudley.

Not with the orgasm-thing, but with being evil and with loving to cause him, Harry, pain.

Dudley was his age, but honestly – Dudley was twice his size and weight and he didn't have the slightest chance against his cousin. Not without magic and he wasn't allowed doing magic during the holidays. But without enough food – and he knew that he didn't get enough food at the Dursleys either, he wasn't stupid after all – he didn't have the slightest chance against Dudley in any muggle ways. And as Dudley – just like uncle Vernon – loved seeing him suffering, loved getting him into trouble so that he could watch him being punished by uncle Vernon, being beaten with the cane or the belt, so that he could watch him writhing on the floor with pain and crying like a baby – he did so as often as humanly possible.

And what Dudley also liked was seeing him alone, _keeping_ him alone, and Dudley made sure that he _stayed_ alone, that he didn't have any friends in the muggle world during the holidays that could have helped him. Because he came just after his father in beating him up, his friends, Polkiss, Gordon and Malcolm hunting him, Harry, down and holding him while Dudley beat him up then. And as no one wished to get into trouble with Dudley Dursley and his gang – no, he didn't have any friends in the muggle world or during his summer holidays.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Well, generally spoken – for a boy who was famous, The-Boy-Who-Lived, and for a boy that had people searching him out for his attention, he didn't have many friends in the wizarding world either, maybe just because he never had learned how to make friends – or how to keep them, or maybe because he very soon had learned that – he better didn't get any friends or they would get hurt – because Dudley loved to hurt them, or because uncle Vernon knew that anything that was dear to him, he could hurt him with by killing it, like the spiders in his cupboard he used to kill because he, Harry, had liked them.

Oh, he knew that there were many people claiming to be his friends or that at least they got on well together, like Dean or like Seamus, just for example, or like Justin or Ernie, but in truth – they weren't _real_ friends, because they never would stand up to him, he knew that. They were his year, but they were not friends. Ron was a friend, and Hermione too, but even they were – well, he still couldn't blame them for avoiding him now, he was a ghost after all. But they _had_ been friends at one point or another, really close friends, and where there was no one Harry really had trusted, ever, he always had trusted Ron and Hermione.

But except for them – there was no one Harry really trusted anymore.

He had trusted Dumbledore when he had come to Hogwarts last year, and he had liked the old wizard – until he had understood.

Dumbledore had given him the invisibility cloak so that he could roam the castle and find the mirror of Erised. And Dumbledore had made sure he found the mirror of Erised so that he could save the philosopher's stone. And he had wanted him to save the philosopher's stone, so that he knew how tough or something like that he was. Dumbledore had told him more of Voldemort after that, had told him of the war and had told him of the part he would have to play in this war – instead of getting him to Madam Pomfrey.

And so no – he didn't trust Dumbledore anymore, even if he still wanted the man's approval and love somehow. There never had been anyone else who ever had given him those things and he knew that there never would be anyone either who would give those things to him after all. He'd never had anyone telling him that he was a good child or that something he did was good – so, of course someone paying the slightest attention to him was a godsend.

Of course he didn't really _think_ in those lines – but for the twelve year old child, it simply _felt_ good, someone looking at him and giving praise to him, caring about him, even if it was just – a wish, a dream he'd once had.

Well, somewhere deep down he knew the reason as to why Dumbledore paid so much attention to him, but he didn't dare acknowledging this knowledge, because he also knew that he would be devasted then. Again he didn't know this consciously, but he knew it unconsciously, and yet – he just knew that he didn't trust the old headmaster anymore, he just knew since the end of last term, after Quirrel, after the chamber with the stone and after his summer holidays this year.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

At the end of last year Dumbledore had demanded – well, actually _asked_ of him, to go up to his office after he had handed over the stone to him, after he had faced Voldemort and after he had watched Quirrel dying, after he had _killed_ Quirrel actually, and after then the spirit of Voldemort – or whatever it had been – had went through him, had thrown him down those steps somehow where he had passed out after hitting his head.

He still didn't understand why Dumbledore had taken him up to his office where he had ordered him to tell him all of what had happened instead of getting him to the hospital wing, seeing that he had been hurt, seeing that he had felt dizzy and that he even had bled, that he had been tired and scared. But that hadn't seemed to bother Dumbledore. Dumbledore had wanted to know what had happened and he had wanted to know it immediately. And he had wanted to tell him more on the war that he believed was to come and the role he, Harry, would have to play in it.

He had tried to see it from Dumbledore's point of view, still tried to see it from the old headmaster's point of view, he was the headmaster after all, an old and wise person, an important person who surely knew what was important and what was not important, but he wasn't entirely able to – he simply knew that if someone, anyone, had been in pain, suffering from falling down the stairs and suffering from some unknown curses, bleeding even, having been unconscious, he would have taken them right to the infirmary to make sure that the person was alright before getting his answers.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Not that he would have liked going to the infirmary to begin with, he never did, always feared that someone might find out something, but Dumbledore hadn't even thought about it.

"Potter!" He heard Snape's voice and the Potions Master definitely sounded as if he had tried more than once already to address him while he, Harry, had been with his mind elsewhere. Blinking he looked up at the man whose dark eyes pierced him like they never had before. As if he were a rare potions ingredient he had to look at closely so he wouldn't mix it up with another one. And that was really strange, seeing that Snape used to rather look at him like he was an exceptionally disgusting potions ingredient instead of – an interesting one like he seemed to be right now.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_What have you done now?  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you


	6. what have you done now

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 12th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"Potter!" He heard Snape's voice and the Potions Master definitely sounded as if he had tried more than once already to address him while he, Harry, had been with his mind elsewhere. Blinking he looked up at the man whose dark eyes pierced him like they never had before. As if he were a rare potions ingredient he had to look at closely so he wouldn't mix it up with another one. And that was really strange, seeing that Snape used to rather look at him like he was an exceptionally disgusting potions ingredient instead of – an interesting one like he seemed to be right now. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter six **

**What have you done now?**

"Get in there, Mr. Potter." Snape growled at him and daring a look at the double winged door they were standing in front of meanwhile – he noticed that they were in front of the infirmary – what caused him to blink at the Potions Master in pure shock for a moment as he had expected the man leading him to the dungeons for detention or something like that.

Not that he really minded missing the welcoming feast, seeing that one – he didn't really know if he would be able eating anything with being a ghost and such, he hadn't tried yet and second – even if he'd be able to, he didn't know if he was really hungry to begin with or if his cramping stomach hurt because of his uncle having kicked him into the stomach just the day before – at least he thought it'd been the day before – but it could be two days. However, he didn't even know if he'd be able keeping down anything, even if he were able to eat anything at all to begin with.

And surely he wouldn't take the risk in front of Snape of all people.

Whatever – he had not thought that Snape of all people would bring him here of all places, or that he had made the Potions Master caring to begin with. Because he didn't want to be here, he didn't want anyone finding out what had happened to him, and he knew that if he was _here_, then they _would_ find out. And surely he didn't want _Snape_ finding out what had happened to him! And yet – it had been Snape who had done more than Dumbledore had, who had brought him here.

Why was Snape of all people, bringing him to the infirmary when Dumbledore had not thought of such a thing?

Still – not that he _wanted_ being here, right now even less than he would have wanted being here at anytime last year – but Snape at least had _thought_ of bringing him here. Why? Why did Snape of all people care enough to bring him to the hospital wing while other people didn't seem to care at all? Other people he had trusted?

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Watching the brat for another few moments, the pale green eyes going distant, he couldn't help seeing a scene flashing, a small boy hiding a crumpled piece of parchment away beneath a small mat that lay on the floor in – _a __cupboard_? Could it be that they kept a mat in a cupboard? But why would the Dursleys do such a thing? Why would the boy be in a cupboard to begin with?

The small boy looked up at him, quickly and while he wondered how the Boy Wonder – or rather the Boy Memory – could know that he was here to witness the scene, he noticed that the child couldn't be older than three or four years old, already looking pale and dangerously thin, and already with a bruise on the pale face. A moment later the door to the cupboard was yanked open violently and a whale of a man stuck his head in. So no, the three or four year old Potter had not looked up at _him_, _Snape_, but he had looked up at the door, most likely having noticed his uncle approaching, having heard the whale's heavy steps on the corridor outside of the cupboard.

Dursley reached into the small and dark space and grabbed the boy's hair, yanking him out of the barely lit cupboard while at the same time screaming at him and when his eyes followed the duo they fell onto a small and crumpled paper that was taped to the inside of the cupboard door, a small paper that announced in unsure and shaky letters that this was "Hary his room".

So – therefore the mat on the floor. But a children's room? A small and stifling cupboard lined with shelves that were filled with cleaning agents and other poisonous or acid stuff?

He had to take a deep breath before he was able to follow the pictures that led through the boy's memories, by now knowing that really something was wrong.

Even if he hadn't been so sure about that, seeing that Potter still was able touching the ground, the bench in the great hall, right now he was sure that something was very wrong indeed as the memory was – pale, ghostly, as if written in fog, grey colours overlaying the colours a memory normally was done in if using legillimence, the memory itself pale and ghostlike, as if it only were a shadow of a memory. And as an accomplished legillimence he knew that – yes, there was something very wrong indeed. A ghost couldn't be legillimized – but Potter could be, while his memory _was_ ghostlike, not that of a living person. Not that he could say what a ghostlike memory was as he never before had seen one but if there was a ghostlike memory – then this was it.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Merlin." He couldn't help saying when he noticed the first confused and then scared look the boy threw at the double winged doors that led into the infirmary. "What have you done now, child?" He softly asked, knowing that the child had done nothing, not this time, while also knowing this kind of scared look. Potter didn't want to enter the hospital wing, fearing what they would find then – what was just another sign he now recognized. How many signs had he not seen before? He clearly had overlooked the sign of the boy always being too small and thin, a scrawny scarecrow at the best – and a dead skeletal like right now at the worst.

"'M sorry." The boy said, sounding apologetic, and he couldn't help frowning.

He calmly – even if he didn't _feel_ calm – and quietly pushed the door open and then gestured the boy through, Potter only reluctantly going in and he set his face into a scowl, knowing that it was less likely that the brat ran if he looked a bit more forbiddingly. He _had_ some experience in that after all, having led students, his Slytherins, here more than once. But never had he thought that he would have to lead Potter through these doors one day, Potter, instead of one of his snakes.

The problem was – the boy stopped when he was just halfway through the door, looking up at him unsurely and with wide and pale green eyes that were scared, that seemed to plead with him to simply letting him go, and for a moment he wondered if he should deepen his scowl to get Potter in or if he should just wait. Potter didn't look as if he were about to run after all and he narrowed his eyes. A moment later the boy averted his gaze and went into the spacious room.

"Disrobe." He immediately ordered without giving the boy the slightest chance to adjust to the situation – or to think – while hoping that it worked. It didn't always work, startling them into obeying while not giving them the chance to think, but it worked sometimes – but not this time, as it seemed, Potter being one of those whose brain seemed to work even if being startled, what again told him enough. Potter, as it seemed, had had to learn to think while even being scared and startled – a survival instinct, he knew, and so everything hinted to one thing – again – he had been correct and whoever had hurt Potter, it had been those he lived with, Petunia and her husband.

And right now the idiot boy – for once – _did_ think, in a situation in which – for once – he didn't _want_ the idiot boy to think, he did just that what he was not supposed to do. Would that blasted brat _ever_ do that what he was supposed to do? Apparently not, he thought while leaning closer to the boy, watching him close.

"_Dis-robe_." He repeated, pronouncing the syllables and trying to sound more commanding, dark and cold, knowing that if startling them didn't do the trick, then scaring them would. He would be able calming Potter later, but right now he needed the boy to obey him – and to do so without much discussion and without a fuss either. And if scaring him did the trick, then be it, it was better than having a long-winded discussion with the brat. He was not a person who discussed things patiently with his students. He expected them to obey him and if they didn't then he startled or scared them into obeying.

Some might not agree with his methods – but one, he didn't care as it always had worked so far – and two, it simply was his way, his colleagues would have to deal with it or ignore it.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Potter however backed away instead of obeying him now.

He definitely was scared, yes, he could tell that by simply watching him, he didn't even have to cast a diagnostic spell at him, but apparently he wasn't scared enough to obey him – _'__or__ too __scared__'_, an annoying little voice in the back of his mind whispered and he knew that it was right. He wasn't even sure if he would be able scaring the brat any more than he already was right now, he realized by looking down at the trembling and nearly choking form, and he knew that this was just another sign and one he didn't like a bit. Because it was the last step one of those children could reach, after being scared but still able to being startled into obeying and then after being able to think despite being startled – or scared – and finally, after having reached the step of obeying because simply being scared enough – Potter seemed to have reached another step, one he up to now had never had to deal with, one that lay beyond that, beyond being ready to obey in the end – as it seemed, the boy had reached the point where he was scared enough to simply defend himself somehow, never mind how to begin with, and to stay alive, again – never mind how. Not that Potter still _was_ alive, but he still seemed to have that reflex – so, he couldn't be dead … or dead-like, since long?

He didn't know.

It showed him however that the situation was worse then he had believed as Potter seemed ready to do anything just to defend himself, that he was ready to – maybe even being killed? To maybe even kill someone himself? He didn't know, but he did know that it took a lot to get a child like that. Not even his snakes were like this generally. They at least obeyed if he just scared them enough for a moment.

Of course he had to calm them afterwards, and of course he had to comfort them afterwards, but he knew that he always had been effective with his own way of handling them – and such situations – what was the reason as to why Poppy normally allowed him his way.

Well, as it seemed – it didn't work with Potter.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_You do know that you are dead, don't you?  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you


	7. You do know that you are dead don't you?

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 14th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_It showed him however that the situation was worse then he had believed as Potter seemed ready to do anything just to defend himself, that he was ready to – maybe even being killed? To maybe even kill himself? He didn't know, but he did know that it took a lot to get a child like that. Not even his snakes were like this generally. They at least obeyed if he just scared them enough for a moment. _

_Of course he had to calm them afterwards, and of course he had to comfort them afterwards, but he knew that he always had been effective with his own way of handling them – and such situations – what was the reason as to why Poppy normally allowed him his way._

_Well, as it seemed – it didn't work with Potter._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter seven **

**You do know, Potter, that you are dead, don't you?**

Potter meanwhile had backed away towards the corner where the boards with some of the potions vials, herbal ingredients, healing books and other medical equipment met the wall with the door that led to Poppy's office, the door closed and locked, he knew that. Poppy always closed and locked the door to her office as she kept all the medical files in there as well as the more potent potions that could be even lethal if used the wrong way.

He followed the boy with his gaze before he followed him physically, slowly and carefully, trying to keep himself between the boy and the door that would lead out of the hospital wing. Too bad that Potter already was _in_ here, he mused, he surely would not allow him a way to escape now. He feared that maybe it would take him some time, considering the boy's behaviour so far, but he would get the boy into the corner – and where he wanted him.

At the same time however he also knew that he had to take a different approach, one he normally never took – namely the one of discussions, patience and comfort _– before _he had what he wanted. Nothing he was used to, but he knew that otherwise he wouldn't get what he wanted at all and so he would take this road if necessary.

"There is no need to be scared, Potter." He softly said, his dark eyes still piercing the boy and he lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair from the boy's pale face to reveal a bruise that was halfway covered by the black hair. "You are definitely not the first student I have in this very position and I do promise you that you will not be harmed." He added at the startled look the boy regarded him with, his pale green eyes being as expressive as Lily's always had been.

'_At __least __not __more __than __you __already __are.__'_ He thought, not adding this aloud.

Well, the bloody brat did not seem to believe him, of course not, and reared back the moment his hand came close to brush the strands of hair from his forehead, hitting his head on a shelf filled with some of his plain plant-based potions and potions ingredients and with a hiss of pain the boy brought his hand up to rub his head, the pale, nearly translucent face a mask of pain for a moment – and he, Snape, frowned at the brat. Could a ghost – or rather a half ghost such as Potter – actually feel pain?

"Well, that was interesting." He drawled while his dark eyes pierced the boy in front of him.

"No that was painful." Was Potter's softly murmured reply while the young wizard still rubbed the back of his head.

"Potter, I won't harm you." He said, trying to get the idiot boy to trust him while he at the same time knew that he wouldn't be able to. Not anytime soon at least. He had gambled the chance of the boy ever trusting him away during the ten months Potter had been here at Hogwarts and in his potions class twice a week last year.

"Know that." The boy mumbled while averting his eyes and he frowned while lifting his eyebrow. The boy did? So – this seemed to go easier than he had feared.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Then just do as I say and disrobe." Snape said. "I cannot help you if you do not reveal your injuries."

"'M fine." The boy said and the Potions Master took a deep breath, shaking his head. Did he really have to point out the obvious?

"You do know, Potter, that you are dead, don't you?" He asked, not sure if it was wise bringing up the brat's death.

"Somehow." The boy murmured. "But I don't understand. I'm breathing and … and I can touch things, I'm not floating … and … and my heart is beating too, isn't it?"

Taking another deep breath and then releasing it slowly so that he would calm himself he drew his wand and cast a diagnostic.

He knew that he wouldn't be able handling the boy like he normally would handle his Slytherins in such a situation – and for more than just one reason. One definitely was very apparent – Potter was dead and never before had he had to deal with one of his students being dead. The second reason was – Potter seemed to be more damaged, mentally, than his Slytherins normally were, despite their parents being Death Eaters that were anything than kind, even with their own children. And the next reason was – Potter was not one of his Slytherins, he didn't trust him the way his Slytherins trusted him even if they feared him and he didn't know him like they knew him. And Merlin – he couldn't even blame the boy, he never had given the brat just the slightest reason to trust him to begin with. He always had made his life a living hell, at least during his potions lessons.

And why?

For reasons that were so unimportant – not to mention wrong – now.

What did it mean that Potter was James Potter's son? What was the matter if Harry Potter was the son of his childhood nemesis? He had given as good as he had taken anyway back then, at least as good as he'd been able to against four of them. And the other reason, the fact that he always had thought that Potter were spoiled rotten and cherished by his relatives – he feared that he had been very wrong in this. Potter had been neglected and mishandled to the point of death, as it seemed.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"You definitely are breathing." He answered, taking the parchment the quill had written onto for a far too long time for his liking. "And your heart definitely is beating too. Both your lungs as well as your heart seem to work normal not just in frequency but in strength as well. Your bodily temperature is far too low however, 71 f only – _any_ human being with a permanent body temperature like yours would be dead. And still – your heart is beating. Your skin however does look translucent like that of a ghost and you seem to have trouble keeping a steady touch to the ground while at the same time you _are_ able touching the ground or any furniture at all. So, yes – you seem to be dead while some points are indicating that you might be alive still."

There was no answer, but he hadn't expected one either and he turned to unlock the door to Poppy's office, waving the boy inside. He wanted to have a short look at Potter's file encase there was anything the brat was allergic to but he didn't want to leave his eyes off the ghost form, just encase the boy made fore a run the moment he had his back on him.

"Sit." He then said, pointing at one of the chairs while he himself searched for the boy's file and then sat at the edge of the desk. "You definitely seem dead while alive at the same time." He explained while skimming through the file. "You feel pain and you feel fear. You are injured and so the first thing to do is healing you. I am not stupid Potter, and seeing your skeletal appearance as well as the bruises on your neck that bears the fingerprints of an adult's hand – it is clear to me that you either have been choked to death or starved to death, maybe even both. I won't ask you what happened, Potter, not now at least, seeing that I won't get an answer from you anyway, but know that I _do_ know what happened anyway. This obviously is not a one-time incidence and so it is obvious that it – whatever _it_ _is_ – has been caused by your relatives, Petunia and Vernon Dursley."

The startled look the boy regarded him with, the fear that was clearly written in bright red letters over his forehead, it was answer enough to his unasked question and he reached into one of his pockets, pulling out a sleeping draught, knowing that he wouldn't get the brat to allow help otherwise. But seeing that the boy seemed dead without actually _being_ dead – maybe he could bring him back to life somehow, even if he didn't know how to do such a thing yet – he at least had to try.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Take this potion, Potter." He said, reaching the vial towards the boy who looked at him, clearly not trusting him enough to take anything from him and surely not a potion.

"'M a ghost." He said instead, mumbled actually. "'Nd ghosts c'nn't eat – or drink."

"Ghosts cannot sit on a chair either." He said, actually understanding the bloody boy's reluctance to take anything from him – or to ingest anything in front of him out of fear he wouldn't be able keeping it down, even if he barely was able understanding the boy's mumbling. "And yet – you do sit on this chair."

"'T 'nly w'd run through 'nd …" Potter stopped, shuddering.

"Stop this mumbling, Potter." He growled, knowing that he somehow had to get the boy out of his depression – not that he couldn't understand that the boy _was_ depressed in the first place, but he needed him a bit more cooperative. "I am sure that – even as a ghost – you are able using coherent Language."

Well, the only answer he got from the brat for his comment was a shrugging of his shoulder, indicating that either maybe he was able, that he didn't know or that he didn't care.

"Just take this vial, Potter, and try it." He said, reaching out the vial again. "I do not know if you will be able ingesting a potion, but I want you to at least give it a try."

"What … what'll it do?" Potter asked in a small voice, most likely gambling for time, but at least this time he sounded coherent.

"It won't harm you." He answered, just the moment Poppy came into the office, her face pale and startled, most likely having explained the situation – as much as she knew of it anyway – to Albus and Minerva before heading here the moment she had recovered from the shock of having a ghost student at Hogwarts. He cast a quick glance at her while wondering if this it would be, Potter being the first student here at Hogwarts that was – a ghost?

"But … what … what _will_ it do?" Potter asked after he had cast a first questioning and then startled look at Poppy too when he had noticed him, Snape, looking over at the woman.

"It _won__'__t __harm_ you, Potter." He repeated before giving away a defeated sigh. "It will send you to sleep."

"What … but …"

"There are no buts, Potter." He said, scowling at the boy. "I do know your fears, but there is no need to fear what we might find out. I already do know that you are – dead, anyway. You have died Potter and like I already told you – seeing the bruises on your face, on your neck, seeing how thin you are, you have been either starved to death or you have been choked to death. Your secret is no secret anymore, Potter, so allow us to at least try helping you."

"No!" The boy shouted, getting off the chair and starting for the door.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_He should be yours - he is yours  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you


	8. he should be yours, he is yours

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 16th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to di**e****

_"It won't harm you, Potter." He repeated before giving away a defeated sigh. "It will send you to sleep."_

_"What … but …"_

_"There are no buts, Potter." He said, scowling at the boy. "I do know your fears, but there is no need to fear what we might find out. I already do know that you are – dead, anyway. You have died Potter and like I already told you – seeing the bruises on your face, on your neck, seeing how thin you are, you have been either starved to death or you have been choked to death. Your secret is no secret anymore, Potter, so allow us to at least try helping you."_

_"No!" The boy shouted, getting off the chair and starting for the door._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter eight **

**He should be yours – he is yours**

Instinctively he reached over and grabbed the boy's arm, yanking him back and forcing him down at the chair he had been sitting at a moment before he had gotten into a panic, only then realizing that he indeed was lucky, being able to touch Potter without his hand going through the ghostly form.

"No!" The boy again shouted, trying to struggle against his, Snape's grip, but even if he'd been a normal, healthy – and living – twelve year old boy, he wouldn't have had a chance against his strength. He had enough experience in handling struggling Slytherins who tried to get away and with a quick adjustment of his hands he had the boy's back pinned to his chest while he held both skeletal wrists in one of his hands, shuddering at the bones he felt through the pale skin.

"Stop your struggling, Potter!" He growled before taking a deep breath, knowing that he would go no where with his growling. "Calm down, child, I won't hurt you and I do know your secret already anyway. I am only trying to help you, Harry." He added, the boy's given name feeling strange on his lips, but he didn't care right now, knowing that it was important to give the boy _anything_ right now. "I won't hurt you. Trust me, for once in your life, trust an adult."

Slowly the ghost he was holding was ceasing his struggling even if he was sure that he didn't really calm down, that he ceased his struggling only because he had gotten too weak to keep up the fight, but it was enough for now and so he again adjusted his grip, placing one hand onto a clammy forehead while wondering how it could be that a ghost had a clammy skin to begin with. Maybe Potter wasn't so ghost-like as he had thought in the beginning? Maybe it was his appearance only?

Pulling the boy's head closer against his shoulder he continued to speak nonsense to keep him at least as calm as he was right now, to keep him from starting his struggling again and hoping it would work while Poppy finally came out of her daze, taking the vial the boy had dropped earlier during his struggle. He secured the boy against his chest anew with one arm and then reached out with his other hand to take the already uncorked vial from Poppy.

He knew that he had two options right now. He either could have an endless discussion with the boy about taking the potion which he surely would not win, which surely would only drive the boy into another panic attack at one point or another, or he could simply place the vial at the boy's lips and force the potion down his throat. What apparently was the wiser decision, he couldn't help noticing the moment Potter apparently had regained some of his – _strength_ – and started his struggling anew, trying to break free somehow. Of course it was in vain, the boy's little strength being no match for him and Potter could have struggled against him for hours, but he didn't want that, he didn't like seeing children in such emotional pain and fear, not even Potter.

'_Maybe __especially __not __Potter.__'_ The small annoying voice in the back of his mind whispered and he scowled at that voice, while he at the same time knew – since today, this annoying little voice was right. He had been wrong for so long and in so many things regarding this particular child, this particular student and no matter what – Potter being a Gryffindor or not, he still was a student of him, Snape. He had been wrong in blaming Potter of being a spoiled and ungrateful brat, he had been wrong in blaming Potter of being an arrogant and selfish brat. He had been wrong in hurting Potter the way he had, in taking points and giving detention to him for no reasons at all and he had been wrong in always thinking of him as his father. Harry Potter had nothing in common with his father, as it seemed, because any abused child could have nothing in common with a prince like James Potter had been one.

It had been a mask Potter, the child had been displaying last year, maybe his entire life, the same mask his Slytherins displayed, a mask of dignity – because this was all they had left, and they only had it left here, at Hogwarts, they were not ready loosing this dignity here as well, seeing that they had none at home, and so they clung to this with their lives if necessary.

And suddenly the words the sorting hat had spoken shortly before the end of last year made a lot more sense to him.

**Flashback**

_If he got his hands at Albus, then he surely would kill the old fool!_

_How could he have been so stupid as to hide the bloody stone in a bloody school where children were living! How could Albus have been as stupid as to jeopardizing the students' lives with this blasted stone? Not to mention trolls and cerberuses Albus had set up for protection, creatures that easily could get lost as the incident with the troll on Halloween had showed clearly. Sometimes he really thought that the old man slowly but surely was about to go senile. Insane!_

_He had told him that it was too dangerous and Minerva had told the old man too – as had Filius, by the way and Pomona – but had Albus listened? No! No, he had not! Of course he had not! He never listened!_

_Pacing the headmaster's office in hopes that he wouldn't have to go upstairs to Albus' quarters, growling and scowling, his mood at the lowest, he didn't pay much attention to the pictures that watched him, the eyes of the previous headmasters following him in apparent interest – and whispering – until he waved his wand and several black clothes appeared out of nowhere, covering each and every picture of previous headmasters. _

_"Prying bunch!" He growled darkly into the direction of the now complaining paintings. "You will soon be accompanied by another one of you meddling fools!"_

_"Bee in your bonnet, Snape?" A deep and old voice asked and with a scowl on his face he turned to face the shelf where the sorting hat was sitting at. _

_"What do you want, you blasted piece of clotht?" He asked, his voice dark and angry._

_"Nothing, Severus." The bloody hat said in a voice that clearly sounded amused. "You just look – unhappy."_

_"You think any teacher working at a school where the blasted headmaster kept the philosopher's stone hidden and guarded by monsters like trolls and cerberuses should look happy?"_

_"Ah." The idiot hat made, causing him to deepen his scowl. "Yes, I can see your concern. I'm glad that there is at least one teacher here who cares enough about the students to be worried."_

_"I do not care about anything or anyone you blasted piece of cloth." He hissed at the hat angrily. _

_"Ah, but you do worry." The hat seemed to smirk at him. "And only someone who cares would worry, my dear Severus."_

_"Of course I worry, you bloody cloth." He hissed, only getting angrier at the hat's words. "A student nearly died last night!"_

_"Ah, you're speaking of young Mr. Potter." And this time he was sure that the hat smiled at him. "Yes, yes, I can see why you worry about your boy."_

_"He is – not – my … boy! Merlin's pants!" He gasped out, shocked, horrified at alone the thought, and he nearly choked at the word – boy._

_"Oh, but he should be." The bloody hat said, causing him to whirl around and look at him in shock. "He should be yours, he is yours actually!"_

_"What do you mean with that?" He choked out, not understanding and his voice somehow sounded hollow._

_"Oh, I can't tell you all the secrets I hold since thousand years, my dear Severus, or have I ever told anyone of yours?"_

_"I begin to see why Salazar had his problems with your master." He growled at the hat, his scowl back on his face and his voice back under control as well, and with a last swirl of his robes he turned and stormed off Albus' office, not able to stay in the same room with that bloody hat any longer without knowing why he wasn't able even. _

_"Oh, but did no one ever tell you that Salazar and Godoric had been the closest friends possible?" Was all he heard the hat asking before he was out of the door and down the spiral staircase, had passed the gargoyle and crossed the entrance hall to enter his dungeons. _

_And yes, he did consider the dungeons as his as he lived in the dungeons, worked in the dungeons, as they were his home and the home of his Slytherins, as they were shunned by anyone else. And yes, he did consider his Slytherins as his as well, seeing that they lived with him in his dungeons, seeing that he was the only one they trusted, and seeing that he was the only one who cared for them. _

_Potter! His! That was laughable!_

**End flashback**

Yes, those words really suddenly made so much more sense.

Because Potter too had no one – except of caretakers that were abusing him. Potter too had no one who took care of him, no one who tried to understand him, no one who was ready to really help him. Always trying to hide not only the abuse he went through but his weaknesses as well, his injuries and his misery, always trying to keep the remnants of his dignity around him so no one would see how "bad" and how "weak" he was, how "stupid" and how "worthless", not seeing that – Merlin, and that realization being born in his own mind – he was worth as much as any other child.

"Hush now." He softly whispered while pressing the boy's head against his shoulder, placing the vial at the boy's lip and dipping the small glass container, pouring its contents into the boy's mouth before releasing the vial, simply letting it fall to the floor so that he had his hand free to cover the boy's mouth and nose with it.

He felt the small body in his arms tensing up with fear, panic, felt the boy trying to shake his head, to shake his hand off his mouth so that he could take a breath and spit out the potion, but he tightened his grip, ignoring the boy trying to get his hands free, most likely to clasp at his arms, at his wrists or anything else he would be able reaching while he at the same time couldn't help feeling relieved at the small fact that he was able to touch the body of this ghost.

"Calm down, child." He whispered. "Do not panic and simply swallow the potion. I will release you the moment you have swallowed it, I promise, child. I won't choke you, I promise, just swallow the potion. I will remove my hand the moment you have, I promise, trust me and do not panic. There is no reason to fear me or my hand, I won't hurt you, just swallow."

And the moment he felt the boy swallowing the potion he did as he had promised and removed his hand from the boy's mouth, the small and struggling body in his arms arching up in an attempt to take a deep breath, the shaking form sagging against his chest a moment later when the potion took hold and the Boy Ghost lost consciousness.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_Oh, but he should be  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you


	9. oh, but he should be

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 18th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_He felt the small body in his arms tensing up with fear, panic, felt the boy trying to shake his head, to shake his hand off his mouth so that he could take a breath and spit out the potion, but he tightened his grip, ignoring the boy trying to get his hands free, most likely to clasp at his arms, at his wrists or anything else he would be able reaching._

_"Calm down, child." He whispered. "Do not panic and simply swallow the potion. I will release you the moment you have swallowed it, I promise, child. I won't choke you, I promise, just swallow the potion. I will remove my hand the moment you have, I promise, trust me and do not panic. There is no reason to fear me or my hand, I won't hurt you, just swallow."_

_And the moment he felt the boy swallowing the potion he did as he had promised and removed his hand from the boy's mouth, the small and struggling body in his arms arching up in an attempt to take a deep breath, the shaking form sagging against his chest a moment later when the potion took hold and the Boy Ghost lost consciousness._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter nine **

**Oh, but he should be**

Carrying the small and now still body out of Poppy's office and over to one of the beds was one of the strangest things he ever had done, the small body weighing absolutely nothing and he wasn't sure if it was due to the fact that Potter was a ghost or that he was so starved and skeletal. It was startling.

"Merlin, what happened, Severus?" Poppy asked the moment he had placed the boy onto one of the beds.

"The moment I have an answer to that question, I will tell you." He growled, taking a step back and taking a deep breath to calm his own nerves. "Give him some healing potions, Poppy, and heal his injuries. He might not be alive at the present time, but one – I do not know if we really cannot reverse this little fact and second – he has kept up the only thing he'd had left, his dignity, until the end. At least he tried to. We should not take that from him now by leaving him in his predicament."

"Severus?" Poppy asked, looking at him, startled, not used to him being so – melancholic, or so considerate, so caring – so _strange_.

"Just do it, Poppy." He growled. "I will be back in a few minutes to help you." And with that he turned to leave the hospital wing. He just _needed_ a few minutes to himself to get back his mind and to get back his sense of normality. Potter had thrown him – _him!_ – off completely and he needed a few minutes to get back his balance.

"I would, Severus." He heard Poppy's voice the moment he reached the double winged doors of the infirmary and with a frown he turned. "If I could." Poppy then added and his frown deepened. What was there to not manage healing Potter's body for a trained medi-which? His sleeping potion had worked and so surely would Poppy's potions as well? Seeing that the potions Poppy used had been brewed by him just as well as the sleeping potion after all? She might not be a real healer, but she was a trained medi-witch!

"What is the problem now, Poppy?" He asked, taking a step back towards the bed he had laid Potter in without coming close completely.

"Well? How can I heal him if I can't touch him?" Poppy asked as if he should know the problem and he took a deep breath to calm his annoyance. He had been able touching Potter and surely Poppy would be as well.

"Just because he looks ghost-like, it does not mean that you cannot touch him, woman." He growled darkly. "I have been able touching him after all and he is able touching things as well."

He needed fresh air for a moment and he needed to walk a few steps! He needed a sip of his old whiskey and he needed to clear his mind! He needed – closing his eyes he took another deep breath. He needed a break! He needed to think and he needed to explain the situation to Lily!

Lily – again, at the thought of his old friend now dead – he again couldn't keep up the hate he always had felt towards the boy. How was it that he had been able hating Lily's son? Harry Potter was not only the son of James Potter, he was the son of Lily Evans too, of Lily, the girl he had loved, he _still_ loved.

Closing his eyes he could see Lily's face in front of his eyes, could see her auburn hair wavering in the wind and he could smell her perfume she used to use. His Lily. She had left him because of Albus, because of an old meddling wizard that nearly was as celebrated as was Merlin himself, the greatest wizard of all times. And it was that one point that finally had destroyed his trust in Albus Dumbledore – because Albus had taken Lily from him – and then he had been responsible for her death.

And Harry was Lily's son too.

"_You_ might have been able to touch the boy – but _I_ am not!" Poppy said, sounding annoyed and she tried to touch the boy, just to prove her point – and her hand reached just through the ghostly form of Potter, coming to rest on the bed beneath the boy.

Frowning he took another step closer and then sighed in defeat. There his few steps in the fresh nightly air outside of the castle went away together with the sip of whiskey.

Slowly and carefully, as if expecting his hand going through the ghostlike form now that the boy lay there on the bed, just like Poppy's hand, he reached out – and touched the still too chilly skin, his hand not going through the body and he frowned. How was it that _he_ could touch Potter where Poppy couldn't? Who else would be able touching the boy? Why could _he_ touch the boy and not Poppy? How was such a thing possible even?

And if he was the only one being able touching the boy, then that meant that his previous thoughts were wrong somehow? Then that meant that Potter was too much a ghost for others to touch … to get him back maybe? How was he to keep the boy alive if … Merlin, he had promised Lily that he would keep the boy safe if something … how was he to do that now …

Groaning in frustration he leaned his hands onto the mattress of the bed and hung his head for a moment – he had failed, he had failed because he had let his hate rule over his emotions, over him, over his obligations, he had failed Lily – and he had failed Potter too – not James Potter, but Harry Potter.

**Flashback**

_"Severus?"_

_The small and hesitant voice of Lily caused him to frown and he stopped mid-step, knowing that he would be punished the moment he stepped before the Dark Lord being late – and yet, he didn't care. _

_"What is it, Lily?" He asked, his dark eyes piercing his wife. _

_"If something happens, Severus, if we will be separated – will you … will you take care of Harry? Do not forget him, Severus, please."_

_"What are you talking about, Lily?" He asked, coming closer and taking her shoulders in a firm grip, his eyes narrowed. "We won't be separated and Harry will be perfectly fine."  
><em>

_"Will you, Severus?" Lily begged him, not listening to his words. "Please, Severus, will you?"_

_"Of course I will, Lily." He said, unable to ignore the desperate look on Lily's face. "But it won't be necessary, we won't be separated."_

_"You have to go, Severus." Lily then whispered, her face pale, paler than he liked and he had to force himself to release her, to take his Death Eater robes. "Be careful, will you?"_

_"Of course I will." He whispered, giving her a peck onto her cheek before locking his dark eyes with her green ones. "We will talk later, the moment I am back home." He then said before running his hand through her auburn hair and then turning to leave for the Dark Lord as was his duty as a spy to the light._

**End flashback**

But he'd never had the chance to speak to Lily anymore.

The moment he had come back – Lily had been gone, had taken Harry and had been gone and Albus had told him that she had left for Potter. But he wasn't stupid, and he had known that it had been Albus who …

Frowning he straightened, looking at the now dark window before he looked back down at Potter, at Harry Potter, not understanding for a moment while his thoughts whirled through his mind faster than he could grasp them.

Where had this memory come from? Where had _this __particular __thought_ come from? Was it even a real memory or was it just – at the same moment he knew that yes, it was a real memory. It _had_ happened. He was a Master legillimence and he was a Master occlumens either, he knew his mind like others knew the pockets of their Jeans – and so he knew that this _was_ a memory, he knew for sure that it was one of his _very __own_ memories.

But Lily never had been his wife and Potter never had been his … Merlin! What was the meaning of this? What …

He knew that Albus had meddled around with Lily and him, he always had known this. Lily would have married _him_ instead of Potter if Albus had not had his hands in their relationship, if Albus had not wanted Lily to marry Potter for protection. But Albus had, and Lily had married Potter, and they, Severus and Lily, they never had been together, they never had been married and they never had produced a child.

_But this memory! _

Going back into his mind he tried to search deeper behind his occlumency shields, trying to lower them in areas he normally ignored and therefore seemed to have forgotten over the time – but he couldn't and he frowned again while casting a quick glance back at the boy laying in the bed before him, not understanding.

Again he went back into his own mind, forcing his occlumency shields down where they were so strong and he suddenly noticed that they were not his own doing, that someone else had meddled with his occlumency shields and he immediately knew who this someone had been as there only were two accomplished Legillimence he knew about – namely the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore. And seeing that the Dark Lord surely would _not_ care meddling with his, Snape's, occlumency shields as he didn't even _know_ that they were existent to begin with, he, Snape, keeping his abilities secret from the Dark Lord – then only Albus Dumbledore was left who could have meddled around with his memories. But when? And why? And …

Tearing his occlumency shields down forcefully, not caring about the pain he caused while doing so he tried to find out more, he had to know _more_ about … he had to …

**Flashback**

_A small boy, a year old maybe, was crawling towards him, black hair moving lightly while the boy nodded his head wildly up and down while robbing towards him on his hands and knees, getting quicker and quicker before he gave away a delighted squeak the moment he had reached him and he leaned down to take the toddler and lift him up into the air, the small feet dangling midair, moving as if the small creature were walking mid-air, the small face laughing brightly, the child giving away another delighted squeak. _

**End flashback**

Shaking his head in dizziness he knew that he halfway had succeeded, that he had been able to partly tear the occlumency shields Dumbledore seemed to have erected around a section in his mind where he seemed to have memories the headmaster wanted to keep him from remembering and suddenly …

_"Oh, __but __he __should __be." _The bloody hat had said, causing him to whirl around and look at him in shock_. __"He __should __be __yours, __he __is __yours __actually!"_

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_He never could tell him  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you


	10. he never could tell him

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 20th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

'_A small boy, a year old maybe, was crawling towards him, black hair moving lightly while the boy nodded his head wildly up and down while robbing towards him on his hands and knees, getting quicker and quicker before he gave away a delighted squeak the moment he had reached him and he leaned down to take the toddler and lift him up into the air, the small feet dangling midair, moving as if the small creature were walking mid-air, the small face laughing brightly, the child giving away a delighted squeak.' _

_Shaking his head in dizziness he knew that he halfway had succeeded, that he had been able to partly tear the occlumency shields Dumbledore seemed to have erected around a section in his mind where he seemed to have memories the headmaster wanted to keep him from remembering and suddenly …_

_"Oh, but he should be." The bloody hat had said, causing him to whirl around and look at him in shock. "He should be yours, he is yours actually!"_

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter ten **

**He never could tell him**

Merlin!

The bloody hat had not only meant …

"Severus?"

Again it was Poppy's voice that brought him out of his musings and again he looked over at her for a moment before he looked down at the boy in the bed.

Could it really be possible? Could it really be … but he couldn't be a father, he wasn't someone who was a father, he wouldn't be a good father even and surely he …

But was this, could this be the reason as to why he was able touching Potter where Poppy was not? Could this …

No!

Surely not!

Frowning again he slowly drew his wand and then pointed it at the Boy Wonder – or rather the Boy Ghost he right now definitely preferred.

"Reveal yourself." He quietly commanded, his voice steady and calm, calmer than he himself felt after all, forcing the magic to obey his command and he could feel it flowing through his core, through his body and along his arm, his hand, through his wand, the very wand he had purchased when he had been eleven, secretly so that his father wouldn't notice, his mother barely being able to help him with _everything_, just able to keep things hidden from Tobias Snape without being able to accompany him to Diagon Alley at the same time.

He didn't like all those spells shouted around in Latin or an older form of English, and he never had. He rather preferred to bend the magic into doing as he wished by a clear command he gave.

Slowly the boy's face changed, into a frown first, lines covering the pale face for a few moments, but then the face itself changed. The small nose stayed as did the small mouth, but the edges got tougher and more angular, the black hair getting longer a bit and darker even, and casting a quick glance at the boy's hands he noticed that the boy's fingers, some of them that were clawed like a spider's legs got longer, fingers that clearly were broken, and more than once.

Frowning he took the small hands into his own. Why hadn't he noticed earlier? When he had taken the boy's wrists into his own hands earlier to secure them? To restrain the boy during his panic attack? Why had he not noticed the small fingers being broken back then?

Gently he felt along them, felt the breaking points and already he had his wand out to cast another diagnostic, one that would show everything that had to do with that boy, from birth to this very moment.

After looking into the boy's face again he didn't have any doubts anymore. This child was a perfect mixture between Lily and him, Snape, but how … closing his eyes he took another deep breath, ignoring the strange look Poppy cast between him and the boy. He never could tell the boy, he knew it. He would have to find a way getting him back to life and keeping him from being returned to Petunia and her husband, but he never would be able telling the boy.

The boy would be disgusted by having him, him, Severus Snape, the evil Potions Master, the greasy dungeons bat, the git, as his father. That boy hated him as much as he had hated him, and he never would accept him as his father. He would not risk being rejected by his own son! He never would tell him! He never could tell him!

But he would tell Albus and he would kill the old man for what he had done!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Severus, is this …?" Poppy asked while reaching a cloth at him, again getting him out of his thoughts he so often seemed to get lost in tonight and he took the cloth, laid it on the bed.

"I do not know." He softly said, more to himself than to Poppy. He wasn't really sure after all. His spell had undone any glamour Lily or James Potter – or Albus – might have cast at Harry Potter and the boy had changed his appearance, did look like a perfect mixture between Lily and himself but – was that enough proof for him? He would have to wait still for the more detailed diagnostic he had cast, the quill taking a worryingly much time to write.

He gently lifted the shirt the boy was wearing, uncovered the boy that – most likely at least – might be his son and he blanched as the child whimpered and shivered, but didn't really cry out in discomfort and pain. Just another sign that it had been a long time the boy had been mistreated, Potter was used to pain – and to keep still while being in pain. And well – so much for his potions working as the sleeping potion should have kept the boy out of it for at least the next eight hours. Closing his eyes he took another deep breath, knowing that he wouldn't be able forcing another potion down the boy's throat the way he had done just a few minutes ago, and gently he started running his wand over the boy's fingers instead, healing fracture for fracture of not only the child's broken fingers but a wrist, an arm and thenstarting on the ribs as well, before finally he soaked a cloth with a disinfectant potion he could clean out the worst cuts with.

And there were cuts and welts almost everywhere, just as much as there had been fractures, his ribs not only clearly poking out beneath damaged and bruised skin so that each fracture was clearly visible, he didn't even have to feel for them or wait for any diagnostic to be finished. He just had to point his wand at the clearly visible fractured ribs and heal them one by one, the boy watching him with mistrust clearly written all over his pale face and in his green eyes, wincing at each fracture he healed the moment the ribs set themselves before growing together. Not that they were healed completely that way, but they were starting to heal, they would hold and heal if the boy would not run a marathon with them.

"You should take this potion, Potter – child." He said, frowning at himself. _'__Sure, __go __on __like__ this __and __he __really __quickly __will __know__ that __there__'__s __something __wrong, __you__ idiot .__Are __you __unable __of __keeping __your __indifference __and __professionalism__ in __front __of __a __child? __Since __when?__'_ "Healing your broken bones is one thing, unpleasant but not really painful – but cleaning out all of those cuts will be a bit more painful than that. It is not a sleeping potion but a pain reliever – in hopes that this one will work longer than the sleeping potion had. At least this potion I will be able giving you another dose of if it starts ceasing."

The boy however did not react, just stared at him, the small and bony body being rigid and the fists being tangled in the sheets of the bed in clear fear. And again – understandable, because no adult ever seemed to have meant well to Potter while _he_ in particular had been exceptionally cruel even.

"I do not wish to cause you any more pain than the pain you are already in, child." He said, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. "And I know that you are in pain. I can tell by just looking at you. I also know that you are scared and I understand, but I only wish to help you. Madam Pomfrey is unable touching you and so it will be me trying to help you."

Still, the boy didn't answer, just averted his eyes as if he didn't believe him but didn't want to admit it and the Potions Master frowned. Stupid, really! Of course the boy didn't believe him, of course the boy didn't trust him.

"I do know that you have no reason to trust any adult, child, and least of all me." He said, slowly reaching out and placing his hand at the boy ghost's shoulder, ignoring the flinch and the startled look on the pale face. "But I do ask you to take a risk and trust an adult for once in your life, to trust _me_. I know that for _you_ it is a risk, and one that might cost your life if you miscalculate, but you are already dead, Potter. I won't be able killing you. I do not _intend_ killing you, nor do I intend _hurting_ you. It is my wish to help you – if you let me."

He watched the boy's eyes narrowing, the pale face taking on a calculating look for a moment, but then the pale face got back to being simply scared. For a moment there had been a Slytherin side making itself known before the boy had been back to – simply being a scared child.

"Harry?" He asked, lowering his head to one side while increasing the pressure his hand had on the bony shoulder, his face going hard and indifferent again, emotionless like always.

But there was no answer still.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_It won't, I promise  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you


	11. it won't, I promise

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 22nd 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"I do know that you have no reason to trust any adult, child, and least of all me." He said, slowly reaching out and placing his hand at the boy ghost's shoulder, ignoring the flinch and the startled look on the pale face. "But I do ask you to take a risk and trust an adult for once in your life, to trust me. I know that for you it is a risk, and one that might cost your life, but you are already dead, Potter. I won't be able killing you. I do not intend killing you, nor do I intend hurting you. It is my wish to help you – if you let me."_

_He watched the boy's eyes narrowing, the pale face taking on a calculating look for a moment, but then the pale face got back to being simply scared. For a moment there had been a Slytherin side making itself known before the boy had been back to – simply being a scared child. _

_"Harry?" He asked, lowering his head to one side while increasing the pressure his hand had on the bony shoulder, his face going hard and indifferent, emotionless. _

_But there was no answer still. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter eleven **

**It won't – I promise**

It was more than fifteen minutes later that he noticed movement beside him, silent tears running down a very pale face and green eyes watching him scared, expectantly – and the moment he leaned towards the child, a small and battered but ghastly hand reached out towards him, silently asking for comfort with the gesture – comfort from him! The boy was a ghost – or at least ghostlike, for Merlin's sake! He didn't understand how the boy that was a ghost actually might need comfort. And surely did he not understand how the boy might need comfort from _him_, of all people. From him, Snape, who had hurt him as much as had his relatives – maybe not physically, but surely mentally at least.

And yet – the boy did ask him for comfort – from him.

At least if he read the small gesture correctly.

Slowly he took the small hand into his own larger one, gently holding it, turning it and watching it, the small fingers, the bones having started to heal but the ghost-like skin still battered and covered with cuts and burns and bruises, and gently he ran the fingers of one of his hands over the boy's small hand while he still held it, his own thoughts far away for a second.

A moment later he nearly was startled to death when he had an armful of a boy ghost in his arms, clinging to him.

What exactly … surely that could not mean that … surely it only was because right now Potter was over emotional and scared and felt alone so that he would – by free will – cling to him like to an anchor in a sea he was drowning in. It surely only was because he had died! That particular knowledge _had_ to be a shocking thought for the child after all! Otherwise the boy surely _never_ would do such a thing, would be too disgusted to do such a thing like clinging to his hated Potions Master like a child in need would cling to his father.

But the boy didn't know – and he never was meant to know either, he never could know!

But he – he, Snape – he knew, and he barely was able to breathe for a moment at the thought alone. Harry, the very child that was clinging to him right now like any child would cling to his father in need – it indeed _was_ his son, and again he himself was drowning in memories …

**Flashback**

_"Owwie … owwie … owwie …" Little Harry murmured in a mantra, the small arms that had sneaked themselves around his neck holding onto him so tightly he nearly was choked and he actually had troubles holding the small, trembling and clearly cramping body of his son with one arm close to his chest while he tried to loosen the death-like grip the toddler had on him – or rather on his neck with his other hand._

_"Hush, Harry." He softly said while now trying to turn the boy in his arms meanwhile, hoping that the boy would release his neck this way. "What hurts? Calm down Harry and tell me what hurts." – But he only got the same mantra of "owwie … owwie … owwie …" out of the small boy and he sat down so he at least had a hand free without fear of dropping the barely a year old child._

_"I cannot help you if I do not know what hurts, Harry." He gently said, trying to stay calm and trying to calm the meanwhile openly crying and wailing boy as well. But he immediately knew that he wouldn't get any other answer out of his son who clearly was in pain. Placing his right hand onto the small back he started softly massaging the small form he held close to his chest with his other arm, trying to loosen cramped muscles and produce warmth at the same time. _

_A few moments later the wailing ceased and the boy was only quietly crying, releasing his neck and turning in his grip. Another moment later small hands took his wrist and guided his much larger hand over the small stomach while thin and knobbly knees were drawn close to the boy's chest. _

_He shifted his small son so that he lay on his side in his lap before he continued massaging little Harry's stomach, both of the small hands still clinging to his much larger wrist in a death-like grip, not ready to release him yet and maybe risking that he would stop massaging him if he released his father's wrist._

**End flashback**

A few minutes later the child had fallen asleep finally and he had not dared bringing him back to his bed, had lain down at the sofa, his son cradled close to his chest and both of them had slept in the parlour that night.

Again he didn't know wherefrom he knew this, but he simply _knew_ and carefully he leaned over the child's form clinging to him, shifted a bit in his chair so that he could pull the boy's thin form closer and cradled him to his chest, afraid that any touch he might bestow upon his tortured body would only cause more pain to him, would bring back more memories of the Dursleys' torture chamber.

Yes, Harry never was to know that he was his father, but if his son needed that kind of comfort, then he would give it to him. He would not deny this from his son.

Again frowning he wondered where those thoughts had come from.

A few hours ago he had hated that particular child – or at least he had disliked him and now … how was it that … he didn't understand – and yet, he didn't mind. This child was his son and his son had been tortured, had been killed, had been abused for years, had been denied anything, food even, had been starved. He would not deny him comfort.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He simply was in heaven.

He still hurt, and he still was scared, scared that Snape might lung at him and beat him, that he might take him and shake him, that he might do things uncle Vernon had done when he'd been bad, but at the same time he was in heaven because the comfort the Potions Master right now provided him with was that he always had wanted. He still feared that Snape might push him away, might stop holding him, but he would take what he got, he would bathe in the feeling of comfort as long as it was given – anything to remember.

His father was there at the moment while he was in pain, his father held him right now and he massaged his hurting stomach, stroke his hand over his aching face and brushed away his tears. His father simply held him and he would never ever in his life forget this moment. He would burn it into his mind and he would remember it forever, and when Snape got at him in potions next time, he would call up this particular memory and he would daydream in it.

Closing his eyes he tried to relax into the strong arms of the man while at the same time hoping that this very moment never would end.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The Potions Master could feel the small body of his son trying to relax in his arms and with a relieved sigh he leaned back against the backrest of his armchair, trying to slow his own wildly beating heart and trying to accept the feeling of contentment while he at the same time couldn't help remembering the very same scene from so many years ago – him, Snape, holding his son and massaging his stomach.

How had he forgotten about this? About having a son? And right now, while holding said son of his, he was sure – he _knew_ – that it was true, that – Merlin!

Merlin! He had hated his own child!

Adjusting the boy like he had done with a much smaller version of the child years ago he made himself and the boy more comfortable, thinking.

Just like the boy never had complained, not once, and not to anyone, that the Dursleys didn't give him enough to eat, that he was hungry, he never had complained about the treatment he'd had to endure in his, Snape's classroom. And that, more than the actual abuse, more than anything he had learned about the boy's life during the past few hours – it disturbed him, the fact that the boy had never told anyone what his home life at the Dursleys really had been like – or potions classes with him.

When he looked down at the child in his arms, the boy had his eyes closed and his breathing was evening out – the child was about to fall asleep.

"The potion, Harry." He softly said, again shifting the boy in his arms so that he could pour the potion into the boy's mouth, hoping that the child was sleepy enough to not think, that he was comfortable enough to – for once – trust him and that he would not have to fight over the boy swallowing the potion like he'd had to do before.

"Won' hurt?" The boy's groggy voice asked and for a moment he nearly smiled at the childish question, as if the twelve year old were back to the barely one year old boy he had known once.

"It won't." He quietly answered while running his hand over the boy's forehead. "I promise."

"'K." Came the answer from the boy and with another relieved sigh he placed the vial with the pain reliever at the boy's lips and dipped the small glass container, the boy for once obeying and swallowing the clear liquid, his eyes already closed again. He would be back to sleep soon, and with the pain reliever he wouldn't wake while he tried to heal him in the faint hopes that he might bring him back to life somehow.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_But what do I do now?  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …


	12. but what do I do now?

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 24th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"Won' hurt?" The boy's groggy voice asked and for a moment he nearly smiled at the childish question, as if the twelve year old were back to the barely one year old boy he had known once. _

_"It won't." He quietly answered while running his hand over the boy's forehead. "I promise."_

_"'K." Came the answer from the boy and with another relieved sigh he placed the vial with the pain reliever at the boy's lips and dipped the small glass container, the boy for once obeying and swallowing the clear liquid, his eyes already closed again. He would be back to sleep soon, and with the pain reliever he wouldn't wake while he tried to heal him in the faint hopes that he might bring him back to life somehow. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter twelve **

**But what do I do now?**

The moment he woke he held his breath, knowing that he would be in pain the moment he got awake and aware completely. He knew that he first would feel the pain in his back, then the pain in his bones, in his joints and finally in his head – and last in his stomach. And he also knew that he wouldn't be able doing anything against it.

Taking a deep breath and gritting his teeth he prepared himself for the pain that was to come, and he would have curled his fingers into fists too, but he knew that this wouldn't be such a good idea, he kept from doing that if he was able to as it only would hurt like hell – but the pain he expected didn't come.

He shifted a bit, again preparing himself for the pain the movement would bring, but still – it didn't come and while he kept his teeth gritted – just in case – he slowly opened his eyes.

The first thing he could make out was – light, bright light that nearly hurt in his eyes and he blinked. So – it wasn't his cupboard, because his cupboard always was dark. The second thing he could make out while squinting his eyes so the light wasn't as bad – was a dark figure sitting in an armchair beside his bed and he held his breath, tightened his muscles to prepare himself and his body for anything that might come his way. But then he frowned.

A figure sitting in an armchair beside a bed he lay in? Then it definitely wasn't uncle Vernon as he _never_ would sit beside his bed, that much was for sure. Not to mention that – what he could recognize of that person at least – it was not a whale of a man like uncle Vernon was.

Again he realized that – the pain still had not come yet and he squinted his eyes, trying to make out who the figure was that was sitting beside his bed – while at the same time he tried to figure out why he would be laying in a bed to begin with as at the Dursleys surely he wouldn't be in _any_ bed – what meant, he wasn't at the Dursleys at all.

Releasing his breath he shifted again, still absolutely transfixed by the fact that he wasn't in real pain for the first time in – he couldn't even remember since when! He felt uncomfortable, yes, but no real pain!

A hospital, he suddenly realized. He was in a hospital.

And that meant that he didn't feel any real pain, because he was healed.

But …

If he was healed – that surely meant that time had passed, and from what he knew of broken bones and other injures – and he knew a lot about _that_ – at least a month and even then he wouldn't be feeling this … _painless_, even if uncomfortable.

His insides started cramping, but not in pain … it was something else, it was something that went up to his chest and then to his throat, blocking his airways, because he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that painless and … he nearly choked on his breath while tears blocked his eyesight that was miserable at the best and not existent right now.

But he didn't understand!

Why would he cry like a baby upon not feeling pain? Why would he feel unable of taking a deep breath upon something that wasn't bad for once? Why would he … he didn't understand!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Harry?" A soft and dark voice beside him asked while the dark shadow leaned closer and he reared back with a startled and choked cry of fear before he realized – it was Snape's voice and so the dark shadow most likely was Snape as well.

So he was at Hogwarts, and in the hospital wing … Snape had brought him here last night – at least he thought that it had been last night. And at least that explained why he seemed already healed after only – what? A day? Two days maybe? He didn't know.

Hitching a breath he remembered the feeling of being held last night, of being held by Snape, by his father.

But why had Snape done that? Snape didn't know that he was his son, his mother had told so in her letter, and even if she had told him, Harry, that he should tell Snape, that he should show him the letter, he knew, had learned very soon upon his first potions lesson, that Snape better never was to know that – or he would kill him personally - with a very slowly and painful potion, or with a particular nasty spell. Didn't he make an application for the Defence against the Dark Arts position each year? What ever way Snape would kill him, he wouldn't survive telling the Potions Master that he was his son, Snape hated him way too much for that.

But why then? Why had he held him last night? Why had he stroked his hand over his face like a father would do with his son who didn't feel well? He began to shake and to cover it up he drew his knees up to his chest, curling himself into a small ball with his back against the wall.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Harry?" Snape asked, having a hard time to keep the worry he felt from his face. "We won't hurt you, child." He added when the boy started to shake and the Potions Master reached out his hand to place it on the bony shoulder for comfort.

"No!" The boy however shouted out even before he had touched him and he stopped his movement mid-air.

"I won't hurt you, child." He repeated, not pulling his hand back but slowly placing it onto the bony shoulder.

"No!" The boy shouted, louder, yanking his shoulder away and the pale face even looked angry. "No! Don't pretend you care! Because you don't! You just hate me! Don't pretend you care now and go back to hating me later! Don't destroy the only memory I have of you ever being kind! I hate you! Leave me alone!"

Blinking a few times stupidly – what was not too becoming for him, he knew that – he tried to wrap his mind around the boy's words. He shouldn't destroy the only memory of him being kind? Was it so important to the boy that he had held him last night? And if – then why? What had happened during the time span from the end of last term and right now? The boy seemed as if he were searching for his, Snape's approval, his comfort – something only his Slytherins normally did.

"Harry? It's okay, we only want to help you." Poppy reassured the boy, most likely not understanding what the exact problem was.

"No!" The boy shouted a third time. "You only will tell the Slytherins so they can make more fun of me than they already do!"

Was it this? He narrowed his eyes at the boy, at his son.

No, it wasn't, not entirely at least, he realized. It might play a role, yes, but it was not the main problem. The main problem seemed to be that the boy feared he would lose his, Snape's approval and comfort, his care, and he only brought this up so that he would not have to admit that he was scared of losing his hated Potions Master's care. But again – why?

"I will not tell _anyone_ of this if you wish this to be kept secret, but I would like to know what has happened during the past two month while you have been in your summer holidays." He calmly said. "And there will be no way around that – even if I have to give you a daily detention for the remainder of this term – that has just started."

"Severus!" Poppy shouted, looking at him horror-stricken. He only lifted an eyebrow at her before locking his eyes at the boy, at his son, again.

"You won't tell anyone?" The boy asked, looking at him with so much hope in his eyes that he nearly felt unable to take a breath for a moment. "You promise? And you won't send me back either? You suggested detention until …"

"Harry Potter!" Poppy again shouted, this time looking at the _boy_ horror stricken at the thought of the boy even _thinking_ that they could send him back.

"No, Harry." He said, calmly, startling the boy with the use of his given name and even _he_ could hear the anger in his own voice, anger at Lily's sister and her husband. "You never will go back to those bloody excuses for human beings ever again." He had seen the boy's body last night, his back and his chest, and except for the broken bones, the bruises and the open cuts and lacerations – he had seen all the scars, scars that overlain other scars, layers of scars that were years old.

"But …" The boy started, looking helplessly up at him. "But what do I do now?"

"You trust an adult for once in your miserable life, Potter." He growled. He had watched the boy during yesterday evening and during last night, and he had watched him this morning so far, silently weighing up his options as to the next curse of action. Had watched his uneasy sleep, his restless movements during his sleep, had watched the child curling into a small ball or rocking himself to sleep sometimes even while softly humming to himself, barely audible, but he had heard it – and he had seen this type of behaviour before and he knew that maybe the sorting hat had been right in more than one regards.

_"Oh, __but __he __should __be."_ The bloody hat had said, causing him to whirl around and look at him in shock_.__"He __should __be __yours, __he __is __yours __actually!"_

Yes, the idiot child should be his. He should be one of his Slytherins. And yes, he actually was his. He was his son. He was his snake.

Waving his wand he summoned the tray of food one of the house elves had brought earlier and he set it onto the bed over the boy's legs.

"Eat this, Potter." He tersely ordered. "All of it. I do not care how long you will take, but you will eat all of it."

"But …"

"I do not care if you will be able eating anything at all to begin with either, Potter, just start! Now!"

The boy looked down at the tray of food in front of him, looked back up at him unsurely before he looked down at the tray again and then reached for the spoon. "Thank you, Professor." He said before he put the spoon into the bowl with the light and watery porridge.

He watched the boy as he slowly went to work on the porridge and he had to grit his teeth at seeing how the boy's hand that was clutching the spoon too far down the handle and in a death like grip was shaking, the boy reminding him of any child that first had learned to feed himself.

**Flashback**

_"Dee, daddy, dee!" The small, black haired boy squealed in pure delight and looking at the little imp he was just in time to see the spoon that hit the content of the bowl standing at the table in front of his son – little Harry having tried to feed himself but the spoon falling from his little fingers that had held the cutlery in an awkward way and mashed potatoes splattering all over the table and into his son's pyjama top, his face and his hair – causing a bath being in order, including washing the brat's hair what would be a battle rather than a bath._

_"Nice." He drawled when the boy looked up at him with large eyes and an "ohoh" on his small lips – followed by his son laughing and clapping his little hands at his drawl. How this small boy could laugh and clap his hands whenever he drawled while any other child would run as far as possible, it was a riddle to him, but the boy seemed to love it._

**End flashback**

And right now, the boy looked exactly the same, awkwardly holding his spoon and slowly eating the porridge so that he would not drop the spoon and make a mess, the pale face a clear mask of concentration and the movements too slow and awkwardly – just without the laughing and clapping and without the "ohoh" and just with the boy's hand that held the spoon trembling, and the Potions Master held his hands behind his back so the boy would not see him curling his hands into fists with pure frustration.

"Since when are you – in this condition?" He asked, just so that he had something, _anything_, that averted him from the thought of the twelve year old boy eating like a barely one year old child that was learning to feed himself.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_Not – a single – word  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …


	13. not  a single  word

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 30th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_And right now, the boy looked exactly the same, awkwardly holding his spoon and slowly eating the porridge so that he would not drop the spoon and make a mess, the pale face a clear mask of concentration and the movements too slow and awkwardly – just without the laughing and clapping and without the "ohoh" and just with the boy's hand that held the spoon trembling, and the Potions Master held his hands behind his back so the boy would not see him curling his hands into fists with pure frustration. _

_"Since when are you – in this condition?" He asked, just so that he had something, anything, that averted him from the thought of the twelve year old boy eating like a barely one year old child that was learning to feed himself._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter thirteen **

**Not – a single **– **word**

The boy had looked up at him, startled, scared, and he had gestured to him to go on eating – and the boy had, as slowly as before, and he had repeated his question, knowing that the boy would eat calmer and more in peace if his mind was taken off the bowl and his task to begin with. Not an easy task, he had known, as any child with an eating disorder – and he was sure that after years of being with those people the boy had an eating disorder – would try concentrating onto the nearly impossible task of eating anything in front of anyone – and he himself had needed getting his own mind off a twelve year old boy that fed himself like a barely one year old would – not to mention that he had needed answers.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Scowling and with fury roaring anew through his system he apparated to Privet Drive and hurried along the pavement that led to number four, where he knew the Dursleys lived. He was angry beyond anything he ever had felt and he barely was able keeping himself from blasting the entire suburban into millions of tiny pieces – because none of the neighbours had done anything – while he remembered a conversation he rather would like to forget at all.

**Flashback**

_"Since when are you – in this condition?" He repeated his question, his dark eyes on the boy and he took in Potter flinching again._

_"'M not sure, sir." The boy answered, not daring to look at him, his eyes glued to the bowl of porridge instead without actually eating any of it but playing with the spoon in his hand awkwardly._

_"Surely you must have noticed your body having changed, Mr. Potter?" He asked, again – or still – trying to regain his composure and his professionalism. "When was this?"_

_"Haven't changed." The boy mumbled and he frowned at the brat._

_"What do you mean – you have not changed?" He asked. "You are – ghost-like at the best."_

_"Sure, but I haven't changed." The boy still – or again – mumbled. "Uncle Vernon has …" The boy started but then stopped mid-sentence, averting his eyes._

_"Your uncle has what, Mr. Potter?" He asked when it was clear that the boy would not continue on his own and he narrowed his eyes at the child. _

_"He's chased me out of the house." The boy murmured, his shoulders bent even more than a moment ago and he really sounded miserable by admitting that. "Dunno what he did with my body."_

_"What do you mean, Mr. Potter, you do not know what he did with your body?" He asked, not really understanding. It was clear what this idiot creature of a man had done to the body of that child! _

_"Dunno!" The child choked out, releasing the spoon that splashed into the bowl with porridge and then wrapping his thin arms around his stomach and bending forwards, hugging himself as if needing this bit of comfort or as if holding himself together, as if keeping himself from falling apart – and he gritted his teeth at the sight. "Dunno! 'M sure he's buried it somewhere or he's dropped it somewhere or burnt it or beaten it again or he … dunno! Jus' dunno … dunno … dunno …"_

_The last few words came out as a soft whisper, barely understandable and tears were running down the ghost-like pale face of the boy that was rocking back and forth by now, a desperate sob escaping the child, all of this showing the amount of emotional pain the child was in, the fear, the horror and the pain the boy felt, his son, and suddenly he couldn't stop his traitorous hand from reaching out and placing itself onto the child's bent back. _

_"You mean – you have left your body and – your actual body is still back at – Surrey?" He quietly asked, forcing his voice to sound calm while he in truth would like to shout at the boy and to slam his fist against the next wall or break something – just to release some of the fury he inwardly felt. Fury at the horror and fury at the terror those monsters had placed upon an innocent child, having to leave his body, having to leave his body behind, not knowing what would happen to it, what those monsters would do to it._

_The boy nodded, unable to give another verbal answer, still sobbing desperately while his arms went up to cover his head, to pull his head down into the ball he was about to become._

_"I need you to concentrate for a moment longer, Harry." He said, still sounding calm and composed despite what he inwardly felt. "I need you to tell me if your body has been still alive."_

_"Dunno …" Was all the boy again was able to choke out, his rocking movements getting more uncontrollable. _

_"Has it been breathing?" He asked, increasing the touch his hand had on the boy's back as if trying to stop the rocking movements. They only increased while the boy started shaking in his terror, started to shake his head to most likely indicate that – no, it hadn't been breathing or no, he didn't know if it had been breathing still back then. _

**End flashback**

He had known that he wouldn't get an answer out of the boy back then and he had known that he had to do something to comfort the child like he would do with his Slytherins in a situation like this. Not that he _ever_ had been in a situation like this with one of his Slytherins ever, but he always gave as much comfort to his snakes as he was able to give – as little as that was, he knew – and they appreciated it, carved for it – as had done Harry, allowing him, Snape, to pull him close again and to pull his arms from his head.

"Hush, child, calm down." He had said, quietly, while again holding the small form against his chest. "I will take care of the situation to my best abilities. I want you to eat and I want you to rest after that. Sleep, if you can."

And then he had left the infirmary, had hurried along the castle corridors, down a flight of stairs and through the entrance hall. He had thrown open both of the double winged doors and then he had stormed down the stairs that led to the front yards, through the gates and without even bothering to approach Hogsmead he had apparated away.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

And now he stood in front of number four Privet Drive, Surrey, and again – without hesitation he waved his hand and then threw open the door, forcefully.

He stood there, barely for a second until he had taken in his surroundings, the staircase to the upper levels to his right, a corridor that led straight to the kitchen ahead and a door that led to the living room to his left, a built in cupboard under the stairs to his right – and without even waiting for the startled voices to come out of the kitchen where the Dursleys had apparently had a late Saturday breakfast, he took the few steps towards the cupboard and yanked the door open, ignoring the looks that fell with a barely visible wave of his hand – and then took a deep breath at the new scene.

The body of the boy he had in the infirmary at Hogwarts lay there on a small and thin, flimsy baby mattress that was stained and perforated, both his eyes blackened and swollen shut, his lips split and the scar on the pale forehead – he had to close his eyes for a moment, to grit his teeth while his hands automatically curled into fists, and he had to take a deep breath before he looked back at the scar that seemed as if someone had tried to cut it off the boy and he actually had to struggle to not use all three of the unforgivables on everyone in that house right then and there.

Slowly he lowered himself onto one knee and lightly brushed his hand over the boy's deep pink cheeks within the otherwise deathly pale face, feeling the fire within the small body – so, the boy was alive still, but Harry, the boy ghost, he had been right in fearing what the Dursleys might have done to his body as there were injuries on the deathly weak and thin body that had not been on the ghost form.

But why had he left his body anyway? How had it even been possible for him to leave his body while it hadn't been completely dead yet? How could this body here, this kind of Harry be alive without the part that was his ghost? Reaching out towards the child's wrists that were bound together tightly with a piece of rope to feel for a pulse, he winced at the blood that seeped from more than one injury where the rope had dug into the soft skin.

"What the bloody hell …" A booming voice coming from behind let him spin around and with a deep growl in his throat he launched himself at the whale that was Dursley, grabbing him at his throat with his fingers of one hand curled around the fat throat and then pinning him against the wall of the corridor in one fluid movement.

"_Not__ – __a__ single__ – __word_, you miscreant of a monster." He hissed, his dark eyes cold and unforgiving at the monster and he barely was able keeping himself from killing the creature here and now. "I will deal with you – and your family – later." He added in a cold hiss and a moment later Dursley was released and a crumpled heap on the floor, not even able to shiver with fright while his wife and son were fixed to the spot where they had been standing in the kitchen-doorway, all three of them having been set under a body bind.

He turned back to the cupboard without even a glance backwards at them and he just took a deep and defeated sigh the moment he saw the child's ghost form, all of a sudden sitting there on one of the shelves, looking down at his own body with scared green eyes.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_Of course Master Snape, sir  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you


	14. of course Master Snape, sir

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

January, 2nd 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_With a deep growl in his throat he launched himself at the whale that was Dursley, grabbing him at his throat with his fingers of one hand curled around the fat throat and then pinning him against the wall of the corridor in one fluid movement._

_"Not – a single – word, you miscreant of a monster." He hissed, his dark eyes cold and unforgiving at the monster and he barely was able keeping himself from killing the creature here and now. "I will deal with you – and your family – later." He added in a cold hiss and a moment later Dursley was released and a crumpled heap on the floor, not even able to shiver with fright while his wife and son were fixed to the spot where they had been standing in the kitchen-doorway, all three of them having been set under a body bind._

_He turned back to the cupboard without even a glance backwards at them and he just took a deep and defeated sigh the moment he saw the child's ghost form, all of a sudden sitting there on one of the shelves, looking down at his own body with scared green eyes. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter fourteen **

**Of course Master Snape, sir**

"'S it 'live still?" The boy asked and he frowned for a moment before answering with a quiet "yes, you are", not ready to ask more of the boy yet, and he again got down onto one knee beside the barely breathing form.

"You should not have come here." He quietly said without looking up at the boy ghost while he finally reached out and gently took the other boy's bound wrists into his hands. At several places around them the rope had dug deep into the skin and at some places even a scab had formed over the embedded rope, making it impossible for him to just banish the blasted thing, unless he wanted to scar the thin wrists horribly. Again his dark eyes hasted to the child's forehead where a large, bloody mess was where the scar should have been and he had to close his eyes to keep down what currently was left from breakfast in his stomach.

The first thing he did was setting up several monitoring charms – for respiration, heart function, body temperature and level of consciousness – which was at the lowest point he ever had seen before except of death – and then he slowly began the long process of healing the boy, knowing that he didn't have too much time, knowing that the boy would neither survive apparition nor port keying and surely not flooing either, the boy already standing at death's doorstep, knocking loudly and demandingly at the door to the world beyond.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Despite the fact that he exactly knew what would await him, seeing that he had already done the same for the boy ghost, he started with a diagnostic scan, which – again – left him faintly nauseous as the list of injuries and illnesses went on and on, showing more injuries than the boy ghost had had.

Then he slowly and with an incredible patience he never would have thought he possessed, gently and carefully started to remove the rope millimetre for millimetre from the boy's wrists, the wounds only barely bleeding what showed to him that the boy was ways too dehydrated for more than those few drops of blood even seeping from the wounds.

"Will you be able getting me a bowl of warm water and a soft cloth, Harry?" He softly asked without looking up at the boy ghost but continuing to free the real boy's wrists, knowing that he had to get the boy ghost's mind off by giving him a task.

He got no answer.

"Harry?" He asked, casting a quick glance at the child sitting at one of those cramped shelves and he frowned upon seeing the shocked expression on a deathly pale face.

"No …" The boy whispered and he wasn't sure if he meant that he wasn't able getting him a bowl with warm water or if he meant that he was too shocked to move – or too scared to pass his own bloody body.

Without any fuss he simply summoned a bowl of warm water and a few soft cloths and then he began to clean the child's wrists and hands, his arms, cleaning out cuts and lacerations, open burns and other injuries he didn't know what had them caused. The water turned a dirty red-grey colour after only a few moments and he had to banish it, had to summon fresh warm water to go on and gently clean injury for injury before he had to summon fresh and clean water again, and then again, before he could be treating them with a potion that would prevent infection and then covering them with a healing salve.

And all the while, Potter the boy ghost watched him with a face that was blank, but with eyes that clearly said – he did not understand – and that were scared.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He had cast a few quick glances at the list the diagnostic had written and so he knew that he better did not move the boy too much, the idiot monster out there in the corridor having broken the boy's spine, and so he cast a careful and partially body-bind at that area before he turned the child and started to work on the injuries on the small back. He could count each rib, front and back, and shook his head at the obvious signs of prolonged neglect and malnutrition.

Not just this one atrocity, then, he thought, but he already had known this, hadn't he?

"Why … why'd you do this?" The boy ghost asked and he cast one quick glance at the small, pale form on the shelf. "Why not letting him die?"

"This is you, you are speaking of, Harry." He quietly answered, frowning, while continuing to care for the remaining injuries on the fragile body in front of him. "I am sure you do not really wish to die."

"'M dead." The boy murmured. "Sort of."

"You are not." He growled. "You have left your body early and I do not know the reason for this nor the meaning or a solution, but I will work on it and I won't allow your body to die if I can help it. There might be a chance for you to return and survive still as long as this body here is breathing."

"Don' wanna." The boy ghost whined and he actually could understand the child.

"Understandable." He quietly said while he cast another charm to put the child he had laying in front of him into an even deeper sleep so that the pain of what he was about to do next would not wake him. He then took a deep breath, took the boy's small hands into his own carefully, grimacing over the lack of flesh on the small hand and fingers, and then applied a numbing salve to the boy's hand. He could feel each strand of tendon and the child's fingers were like tiny twigs from a bird's nest.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Releasing his breath he gently ran his wand over one of the broken bones and with a muttered spell – one he had not cast since his Death Eater days – the bones snapped, rearranged themselves and then he cast a slight body-bind at them to keep them in place so they could grow together again as he was unwilling to use a more potent potion like skele-gro before he didn't know the extent to everything, including any potions that might be necessary still.

He continued his work methodically, setting the boy's arm, his leg, ribs, covering the injuries with a second layer of healing salve, and he cast healing spells at the child's injured organs, unwilling of giving him ingesting potions at the present time either. He cast a spell to eliminate various infections and another one to keep the healing injuries clean and safe before he concentrated onto the child's backbones, his long fingers running down the boy's spine experimentally and searchingly.

A moment later he frowned at the small whimper the boy gave away and he actually looked over at the boy ghost who was still kneeling at the shelf, hugging his arms around his stomach and rocking back and forth meanwhile like he had done earlier in the hospital wing, his pale face a mask of horror. But he had not made a sound and a moment later the small body beneath his hands actually moved in a weak attempt to turn away from his hands, barely noticeable but it moved, startling the Potions Master.

"Surely you won't whine now, Potter, after you have endured me cleaning out your injuries and then breaking your bones and rearranging them earlier what surely had been more painful than me running my fingers down your spine." He drawled while casting another spell to deepen the boy's sleep, just to give the boy something to hold onto until the spell did the trick, knowing that making him angry would be a way for the child to gather back some strength and will to go on for a few minutes more.

Well, it worked with the Potter he had laying in front of him, the boy going still and enduring his pain until the spell started to work, but it did not work with Potter the ghost, the boy still hugging his arms to his stomach and rocking back and forth on the shelf, his pale face horror-stricken and terrified eyes fixed onto his own body while the softest whimper of horror escaped the child.

"We will have to leave soon, Harry." He said, gently, trying to get the boy ghost out of his daze, of his shock, inwardly cursing at the fact that the boy had followed him here to begin with. Not that he couldn't understand, the boy simply had been too restless without knowing what had happened to his body, what he, Snape, probably could do with his body and he'd simply had no other chance than following him, than coming here to watch.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He healed the last injuries and then checked the boy over once more, running his forearm over his own forehead to wipe away some sweat before he cast a quick tempus that showed – he had been here at work on this child for more than three hours now and he took another deep breath. He felt as tired as if he had been duelling for all that time and wrapping a bandage around the boy's forehead and the large bloody mess where the scar should have been he noticed that Harry the real boy was breathing more deeply now, his dark lashes trembling against pale, pink and feverish cheeks. He just wasn't ready to take on such a task like messing around with the boy's head or his backbones without having rested first, and as he didn't know if Poppy would be able touching _this_ body – he had to at least consider the possibility that it would be his job again.

"I will take your body to Hogwarts now." He told Harry the ghost while he gently lifted the small body into his arms. "Will you be able to come with me by yourself?"

But there was no answer and looking over at the shelf and the boy ghost on it, he took another deep breath before slowly releasing it. Nothing had changed, the child still rocking back and forth while hugging himself and he looked so small, so tiny! As if he were only seven or eight years old instead of now twelve – just like the small body he held in his arms right now – a small and tiny skeletal – and only inches away from death – calling out for the black hooded figure holding the scythe.

"Do not leave this shelf, Potter, do you hear me?" He growled at the boy in the hope that he either would listen to him and not leave the shelf – just in case Dursley regained his ability to move before he was back to retrieve the ghost or that he would be aware enough to come to Hogwarts immediately. But then – the boy already was a ghost and surely his uncle would not be able to hurt him again as he already knew – he was the only one who could touch the boy, most likely because he was the boy's father – a thought that again seemed to rob his breath for a moment and he looked down at the small form in his arms. His son!

His nearly dead son …

But then – if _he_, his father, could touch the boy, then maybe his uncle could as well.

"Zilly." He quietly called while his own heart beat too fast with threat. "Please stay here with Harry over there and keep him safe encase his uncle enters this cupboard. Make sure that the boy won't leave on his own and make sure that he is safe."

"Of course Master Snape, sir." The small creature said while bowing slightly and with a final nod he turned and headed out of the cupboard and out of the Dursleys' house, apparating back to the castle where he hurried through Hogwarts' grounds and then along the corridors, and into the infirmary.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_The only home the child ever had known  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**house cup**

don't forget to add your house to your review as I'll start the house cup now …


	15. the only home the child ever had known

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

January, 4th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_But then – he was the only one who could touch the boy, most likely because he was the boy's father – a thought that again seemed to rob his breath for a moment and he looked down at the small form in his arms. His son! _

_His nearly dead son …_

_But then – if he, his father, could touch the boy, then maybe his uncle could as well. _

_"Zilly." He quietly called while his own heart beat too fast with threat. "Please stay here with Harry over there and keep him safe encase his uncle enters this cupboard. Make sure that the boy won't leave on his own and make sure that he is safe."_

_"Of course Master Snape, sir." The small creature said while bowing slightly and with a final nod he turned and headed out of the cupboard and out of the Dursleys' house, apparating back to the castle where he hurried through Hogwarts' grounds and then along the corridors, and into the infirmary. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter fifteen **

**The only home the child ever had known**

"Where have you been so long … the boy's been gone and … what _happened_, Severus?" Were the first words Poppy greeted him with the moment he entered the infirmary, the woman being more than just upset, most likely over the boy ghost having disappeared.

"I have retrieved Potter's body from the Dursleys." He calmly explained while he placed the small body onto a bed, the one beside of that Potter the ghost had occupied earlier, before following him to Surrey, whatever reason he had followed him in the first place. "Please do what you can, Poppy, heal him the best as possible and bath him. I will clothe him properly when I am back, cover him until then, I am sure that he would not like laying here like this."

"Where are you going, Severus?" Poppy asked, her face still pale and shocked, but already starting to run a diagnostic.

"I will have to get our boy ghost from the Dursleys before he will get into a panic attack and do something stupid because of his fears." He said while already hurrying towards the double winged doors to leave the castle a second time, ignoring the matron's questions, and he hurried outside the double winged doors, along the path that led towards the gates and then apparated to number four Privet Drive, Surrey, a second time today.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Upon entering number four a second time this day his gaze immediately fell onto Vernon Dursley, still laying on the floor in the corridor and his dark eyes hardened.

"Do not mistake my quick leave for being lenient on you – I will be back for your punishment. I just do not have the time any adequate punishment for you would require as I can promise you – you will need to endure months of unspeakable pain, and preferrably at _my_ hands." He hissed at the man before ducking into the small cupboard again, knowing that he wouldn't need to call the boy out, knowing that he wouldn't come out there himself, but having to take a deep breath and to calm his own nerves for being able doing so, for being able to ignore the blood stains on the bare and horrible mattress, and he wondered how the boy had managed living in here throughout all those years without going completely insane.

And yet – he wasn't so sure if the child really was not insane to some degrees at least.

That child was still sitting at the shelf where he had left him, still rocking back and forth in a way that clearly was uncontrolled and far from – sane – and his dark eyes fixed at the small figure he stepped closer, reaching out to touch the small form – he got a violent jerking of the boy's shoulder as an answer before the ghostly form pulled away, farther into the corner of the shelf, knocking over some of the cleaning agents that were on the shelf and in his way.

"Calm down, Harry." He quietly said, trying to get the scared boy to reason. "I won't hurt you."

"Where's it?" The boy asked, his voice rough and barely more than a whisper. "What've you done with it?"

"With your body?" The Potions Master asked, frowning, remembering the horror on the boy's face when he had told him that he didn't know what the Dursley might have done to his dead body, the same horror that was written over the pale face right now – and yes, if the child had lost some of his sanity on his way through all those horrors, he clearly could understand. "I have brought your body to Hogwarts, Harry." He then calmly said, understanding. "Will you come with me to Hogwarts now too? Your body is laying in the bed beside yours in the infirmary right now and Madam Pomfrey is tending to it."

The only answer he then got was a desperate sob and again he gently placed his hand at the thin shoulder before pulling the child close, down from the shelf and then wordlessly cradling his son to his chest before turning and leaving the Dursleys' household a second time, knowing that it wouldn't be the last time. He would be back to punish them for what they had done to a defenceless and innocent wizarding child.

He would like telling the quivering mess on the groud that he could try running as soon as the body bind would fade, that he could try running as long as he wished, that he would find him anywhere as he had placed a tracking charm on him, on all of them, that he would not be able to run from his punishment, from his, Snape's hands, and from the pain that would await him – but not right now, because right now he had to bring his child home, to the only home the child ever had known, to Hogwarts.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_When you were what?  
><em>

**Added author's note**

One of my shorter chapters - but well, it has a reason … thank you for reading anyway - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

10 Points - Slytherin

05 Points - Ravenclaw

01 Points - Gryffindor

01 Points - Hufflepuff


	16. when you were what?

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

January, 6th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"I have brought your body to Hogwarts, Harry." He then calmly said, understanding. "Will you come with me to Hogwarts now too? Your body is laying in the bed beside yours in the infirmary right now and Madam Pomfrey is tending to it."_

_The only answer he then got was a desperate sob and again he gently placed his hand at the thin shoulder before pulling the child close, down from the shelf and then wordlessly cradling his son to his chest before turning and leaving the Dursleys' household a second time, knowing that it wouldn't be the last time. He would be back to punish them for what they had done to a defenceless and innocent wizarding child – but not right now, right now he had to bring said child home, to the only home the child ever had known, to Hogwarts._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter sixteen **

**When you were what?**

He came back the moment Poppy had finished bathing the body of the boy he was carrying into the infirmary, thin arms wrapped around his neck desperately and his own arms wrapped around the boy's back, holding him close. The boy ghost was still crying softly the emotional stress of the past few days – or most likely even weeks – simply being too much to bear anymore and the Potions Master held him for a few moments more, until Poppy had finished drying the real boy's body and had covered it with a blanket.

"Allow me to dress your body, child." He then said while prying the thin arms from his neck. "I will be back with you soon, but we can't leave your body laying there without clothes, now can we?"

"Should've let him die!" The boy ghost said, his voice still hitching but otherwise accusingly and with a frown he placed his hand beneath the child's chin and lifted his head so that he had to look at him instead of the still body in the bed beside.

"And why should I have done such a thing?" He asked, angrily, but not angry at the boy himself but at the question he had asked, at Petunia and her husband and at – at himself even for not realizing what was going on in this household sooner, for not seeing the signs sooner.

"He'll die an'way!" The boy said and he noticed that Harry the ghost didn't say "_it_" to his physical body anymore but "he", an improvement in his eyes. "An' he'll die 'lone an'way! He'll have no'ne caring 'bout him an'way! He'll have no'ne at all!"

"Are you alone right now, Mr. Potter?" He asked, ignoring the boy's barely recognizable mumbling and keeping his voice as indifferent as possible – as his face – while his mind was racing a mile per minute. Could he dare telling the boy? Was the child desperate enough so that maybe he would be able accepting even him, Snape, as his father? Was it really worth being rejected and hurt by the boy if he _wasn't_ desperate enough for that? For his hated Potions Master to be his father? He seemed to crave for his, Snape's presence and comfort right now, but how long would this need for comfort last until he was back to his old self and …

_"You are an idiot!"_ A small voice in the back of his mind said. _"He is a child and like any child he needs comfort even after this is over. Will you allow a child to hurt emotions you do not own even?"_

And yet – this child was not any child. It was his son and he knew that he would be hurt by being rejected by his own son.

"You'll be gone an'way!" The boy ghost said, as if he'd had just the same thought he, Snape, had had. "You won't stay an'way! No'ne does! You'll leave me 'lone like you've done when I was …" Large green eyes went even larger and then the child ghost clasped his hands over his mouth as if he had been about to say something forbidden.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"When you were – what, Mr. Potter?" He asked, barely able to breathe, barely able to keep his face an indifferent mask and he had to place his hands behind his back to hide their trembling. The boy couldn't know. It was impossible for the boy to know!

"Noth'n sir." The ghost quickly said, slumping his shoulders and averting his eyes, looking at the floor and his voice sounded hollow suddenly, empty and resigned. "'M sorry, sir."

And yet – somehow he knew – the boy knew. He was sure of that.

"When you were – _what_, Harry?" He asked, deciding that this was too important to be ignored in hopes that Harry Potter might not say what he thought, what he _feared_, he might say. This was just a child after all, a child in need, while he, Snape, he was the adult here and he was the one who should be able to deal with the outcome, never mind what exactly the outcome would be. "I do wish an answer, boy." He said when the brat didn't give an answer but shook his head, startled, ignoring the violent flinch the ghostlike form gave away at the word 'boy', thin arms jerking up for a moment as if in protection and he narrowed his eyes further.

"'S not 'mport'nt." The boy murmured and he gritted his teeth, leaning closer.

"_I_ – will be the judge of that and now answer my question." He growled darkly. "When – you – were – _what_?"

The boy ghost looked at him, clearly terrified, but this time he did not back away.

It wasn't the first time after all, that he startled a student into answering his questions and he did not shy away from doing the same with his son if necessary. _If_ the boy would answer his question with the words he feared he would – then there was no way out of this anyway and then the boy would have to get used to him and his ways anyway.

"When … when I've been … when I've been little." The boy whispered, his green eyes large on him, Snape, clearly terrified and he scooted back on the bed, away from him as if preparing himself for the worst.

Releasing his breath in one long sigh the Potions Master leaned his hand onto the nightstand beside the boy's bed and let hung his head – and not for the first time during the past twenty-four hours.

So the boy knew.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

But _how_ did he know? How could he know something like this? Surely he couldn't remember. Surely he couldn't remember a time when he had been barely one year old. He had been eleven month old when he had seen him last so how could the boy remember that? Remember him, Snape, being his father? But if he didn't remember, then _how_ had he found out? _When_ had he found out? It was not possible!

And yet – the boy knew.

The boy that sat on the farthest corner of the bed still, watching him with large and frightened green eyes, he knew, knew that he was his father. How long had he known? Had he already known before he had died? Had he learned of it during the summer holidays? Had he known last school year already? Groaning he remembered his harsh treatment of the boy last year.

If he already had known back then …

Merlin! What a mess!

"And so you think that I will leave again now." He simply stated while turning back to the startled and scared form of the too small ghost that was his son – Merlin! "And so you think that –" He stopped mid-sentence before scowling. "A bath is in order, young man!" He then said, changing the subject and taking the boy on his upper arm, pulling him from the bed and pushing him towards the bathroom in the back of the infirmary.

"You are wrong, Harry." He said while waving his wand at the bathtub that started filling itself with water. "To your information: it has been your mother who has taken you and left." He then said, starting to undress the startled boy ghost. "Do not take me wrong on this, I do not blame your mother as she has been ordered to by Dumbledore, but I have left neither your mother nor you. I have come back from work and your mother has already taken you and left. Stop struggling, Mr. Snape, I already have seen you without clothes and there is nothing I have not already seen. It also has been the headmaster I suppose, who has tampered with my memories as I only last night started to remember – remind me of giving the blasted old bastard a piece of my mind! And so – no, I will _not_ leave you. I have not left you back then and I won't leave you now. And now get into that bath as I won't have you going to bed dirty as you are after sitting at a shelf in _that_ – household!"

The boy however seemed to have a mind on his own as he stood there, rooted to the spot and not understanding as it seemed, still watching him with large green eyes. But he, Snape, _he_ at least had himself back under control and _he_ at least was master of the situation again, and taking the boy's upper arm he simply led him to the bathtub and lifted him in, ignoring the short struggle before the boy ghost sighed and relaxed into the warmth, the water around the nearly translucent form wavering for a moment before it went through the child's body – at least in this area and situation the ghost making no exception, while it at the same time reminded him – the boy _was_ a ghost, barely alive, an inch away from death's doorstep and knocking loudly for being let in.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_I will be here  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

15 Points - Slytherin

07 Points - Ravenclaw

05 Points - Gryffindor

04 Points - Hufflepuff


	17. I will be here

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

January, 8th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_The boy however seemed to have a mind on his own as he stood there, rooted to the spot and not understanding as it seemed, still watching him with large green eyes. But he, Snape, he at least had himself back under control and he at least was master of the situation again, and taking the boy's upper arm he simply led him to the bathtub and lifted him in, ignoring the short struggle before the boy ghost sighed and relaxed into the warmth, the water around the nearly translucent form wavering for a moment before it went through the child's body – at least in this area and situation the ghost making no exception, while it at the same time reminded him – the boy was a ghost, barely alive, an inch away from death's doorstep and knocking loudly for being let in._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter seventeen **

**I will be here**

So – Snape knew.

Snape knew that he was his father, and he knew since yesterday – as it seemed.

Was it for that, that he was so strange now? How had he found out? Would he really not abandon him now? He knew that Snape had not left, his mom had told him that it simply had happened and that no one had been to blame, but – he simply had _needed_ someone to blame when he had been so stupid to start his sentence. He had been so scared and so hurt and so confused and so – and so _anything_! He simply had needed someone to blame and someone to – to do anything! He had needed Snape to react in one way or another, and even if it only would have been in pushing him away or punishing him for his words, at least he then would have known where he stood with the man.

But now?

Snape had not gotten angry.

Well, yes, he _had_ gotten angry, but somehow he knew that Snape had not been angry with _him_ for his words but that he had been angry at something else, or someone else.

What would Snape do now? Surely he would not acknowledge him, he hated him too much for that. Not to mention that they were two now after all, his body and his ghost, and surely Snape would not be ready acknowledging two of him.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"There might be two of you at the present time, but I guess it will not stay this way." Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry said. "I suggest that you actually take the soap and start to at least _try_ and wash yourself. I also suggest that we find a way for you to be re-united with your body."

"No!" The boy ghost shouted, looking up at him, startled. "No! I don't want to! It … it hurts in there … and … and …"

"I do understand your reluctance, child." He said, starting to run a cloth with soap down the boy's back, his hand going through the ghost's body the moment he reached the water line and shuddering he run his hand back up towards the boy's shoulders – where he was again able to touch the boy without his hand going through. "I do however fear that your body will die at one point or another if you won't go back. Your body won't be able surviving in the long run without you as his spirit."

"So what?" The boy ghost asked, quietly, and again he could make out signs of fear of him for his questions – his shoulders being pulled forwards, the little muscles on his neck, shoulders and back tightening in expectation of a blow and his hands going up a bit to protect his head if necessary. "He's never been happy anyway! He'd be better of with being dead anyway!"

"Repeat this particular sentence once more, and you will find yourself in more trouble than you are able to handle, believe me." He growled darkly. "Surely you do not believe this after I have told you that I won't leave you just moments ago? Lean forwards and cover your eyes with this cloth so that I can rinse your hair. You will have to trust me, Harry." He then added, softly. "I do know that I never have given you any reason to trust me ever, but you will have to trust me now as I do not intend on abandoning you. You are my son and I do know so by now – what means that you will have to deal with me as I will have to deal with you."

"You … you do not have to …" The boy choked out, softly, and he clearly could hear that it was not what the idiot child really wanted.

"What a mess!" He snarled with an angry scowl on his face at the stupidity of the boy. "A true Gryffindor being the son of the head of Slytherin house, imagine! You will have to work on your infuriating habit of sacrificing yourself and your own needs for the sake of others. Do you really think I do mind, you idiot child? Do you really think I would have admitted that I knew about you being my son instead of denying it if I would mind?"

"You … but … but you hate me so much … and …"

"Get out of that bathtub and get dry." He growled, cutting the boy's words off and taking a towel from one of the shelves that stood opposite the bathtub. "I do not _hate_ you, you idiot child. You are shredding my nerves and you will be the cause of gray hair before my early death, I am sure of this – imagine, me with gray hair – but that is what each and every child does. I have known what I got myself into the moment I have started teaching here at Hogwarts ten years ago, having to deal with insufferable and insolent little snots such as yourself – but I do not _hate_ you."

There was no answer this time, no reaction at all while the boy ghost held the towel in front of his body as if to hide behind it – without using it to dry himself.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"You do not believe me." Snape said. "Understandable. Over the past year I have shown my dislike to you often enough. Be assured however that it never had anything to do with your person but with – your father, or rather with your adopted father as this is what I guess happened, James Potter having adopted you. James Potter and I – we have already been enemies back at school and I have to admit that I foolishly have allowed my hate towards him being transferred towards you, assuming that you are his son – and not mine as my memory of this has been erased. If you think that I will have you redressing in those atrocious clothes then you are mistaken. No son of mine will be dressed like this." He growled again the moment the child looked around in search of his clothes and with a wave of his wand he summoned two sets of his own pyjamas.

"But surely you wouldn't … surely you can't … not that I wouldn't like to … but you … no! You only would … no!"

"Stop this rambling and get dressed." He growled, shrinking and reaching one set of pyjamas and socks at the boy who was saying some interesting things when he rambled, like that he would like to having him – _him!_ – as a father, he thought. "Again – I would not be here arguing with you if I would not do so by free will or did I ever give you the impression that I did things against my wish?"

"No! You only will …"

"For Merlin's sake! I will _not_ abandon you and I will _not_ hurt you either, you idiot child!" He nearly shouted in exasperation, ignoring Poppy who came out of her office at the two raised voices, a scowl on her own face. "And now get into these pyjamas! I won't have my son sleeping in a ragged and stained shirt that is the seize of an elephant just because his former caretakers have neglected and abused him to a point of near death …"

"'M not …"

"You are and I will make sure that …"

"'M _not_ … that what you say …"

"You are not even able _naming_ it, you idiot child!" He said, his dark eyes blazing angrily. "You are not even able to _say_ the word abuse! Get dressed!" He then added, taking a deep breath to calm himself, knowing that it neither was the boy's fault nor his place to blame the boy for anything. He should spare his anger for the Dursleys. "And _you_ better do not tell anyone of this conversation, Poppy, as I will have to take security steps before I do face the headmaster with this. Get dressed now, Harry, and try to sleep a bit or at least rest for an hour or two. It has been a terrifying day for you so far and even as a ghost you look paler than you have before. I will be here."

He watched the boy doing as he had told him while he heavily sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, shrinking the second pyjama before cautiously dressing the physical part of his son in it, mindful of the recently healed limbs, Harry the ghost all the while sitting on his bed and watching him handling his body.

Even shrunken the pyjamas swamped both boys, made them looking almost like dolls and with another silent vow to pay back the Dursleys for their – _kindness_ – Severus tucked in first the unconscious child before he went over to the ghost child that still watched him warily and gently forced him down, pulled one of the heavier quilts up to cover him.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It hadn't taken Harry long to fall asleep and as the boy's actual body was unconscious anyway – the Potions Master sat there and watched both boys sleeping, wondering what the future would bring.

Would he be able to convince the boy's ghost to go back into his own body where he belonged to? What would happen if he were not able to, if the boy's ghost would simply refuse going back? He knew that he wouldn't be able _forcing_ the boy ghost. It simply wasn't possible to force a ghost to do _anything_ to begin with. But what would happen then, to the boy's body? How long would he have a chance to survive without his ghost, his spirit? And if the boy died in the end, what would then happen to the ghost? Would he stay? Would he leave, simply vanish and move on to wherever ghosts moved to? But how could he convince the boy to go back into his body?

Moving over to the bed the actual body of his son lay in he wondered for a moment if he should rouse him.

He would like to leave the boy in his deep unconsciousness for a few days or at least hours longer without disturbing him, to allow his body to heal properly, but he knew that the boy needed fluids desperately. Surely no food yet, his stomach surely was too small and damaged for that yet and wouldn't be able to handle anything to eat at the present time anyway, but watered milk with a bit of honey and some light broth he surely would manage. He also would like to give a pain reliever and he surely would not risk spelling anything into the boy's stomach yet. In other words – he _had_ to rouse him and he better did this while Harry the ghost was still asleep so he wouldn't have to deal with watching his body being in pain again.

He cast the same monitoring charm he had cast over Harry's body so that he knew how deep the ghost was sleeping and he frowned at the charm, telling him that the boy wasn't sleeping at all – but wasn't awake either. Well – so much for casting medical charms at ghosts.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_He needed to see Hogwarts one last time  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

19 Points - Slytherin

11 Points - Ravenclaw

06 Points - Gryffindor

06 Points - Hufflepuff


	18. he needed to see Hogwarts one last time

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

January, 10th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_He would like to leave the boy in his deep unconsciousness for a few days or at least hours longer without disturbing him, to allow his body to heal properly, but he knew that the boy needed fluids desperately. Surely no food yet, his stomach surely was too small and damaged for that yet and wouldn't be able to handle anything to eat at the present time, but watered milk with a bit of honey and some light broth he surely would manage. He also would like to give a pain reliever and he surely would not risk spelling anything into the boy's stomach yet. In other words – he had to rouse him and he better did this while Harry the ghost was still asleep so he wouldn't have to deal with watching his body being in pain again. _

_He cast the same monitoring charm he had cast over Harry's body so that he knew how deep the ghost was sleeping and he frowned at the charm, telling him that the boy wasn't sleeping at all – but wasn't awake either. Well – so much for casting medical charms at ghosts. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter eighteen **

**He needed to see Hogwarts one last time**

Angrily he went through the corridor that led from the infirmary to the entrance hall which he crossed before opening the door that led to a chamber beside the great hall, the staff room.

He had put a hand on the boy's injured arm before he had brought Harry out of the deep sleep and to the edge of consciousness to prevent him from flailing if the boy was frightened when he woke, and then he had poured the pain reliever first, a calming draught after that and then a few sips of light broth into the child's mouth before waving his wand and setting him back to a deeper level of unconsciousness, glad that during all those long minutes the ghost form of the boy had not woken.

Of course he was not angry at the boy and surely not at his ghost either, but he was angry at the headmaster for meddling in his life – _again_ – and he was angry at Minerva for not having a closer look at her own students, but most over – he was angry at himself for neglecting and abusing his own son. And no, he did not excuse himself with the little fact that he had not known.

And of course he was angry at himself for feeling – _affected_ by the brat to begin with.

It was one thing the idiot child being his son, but it was another thing acknowledging it in the boy's presence and it also was a _complete_ _different_ thing to feel affected even by the boy and the boy's ghost.

"Good evening, Severus." Minerva said the moment he entered the staff room. "How is Mr. Potter?"

"The actual boy or his ghost, Minerva?" He drawled, lifting his eyebrow at the deputy headmistress. "You should be a bit more specific at the present time."

"I'm sure that Minerva meant both forms, Severus." Albus said and the moment he looked over at the old headmaster a bout of anger soared through his body – and mind. "He will be alright, won't he, Severus?"

"Physically or mentally speaking, Albus?" He growled. "You too should be a bit more specific at the present time. He practically is _dead_, Albus and I do not give a damn what you say – Mr. Potter will not be spending another goddamn night at this blasted tower or you can find yourself a new professor. Nor will he ever go back to the Dursleys."

"Severus, surely you …" Albus began, frowning at him.

"I will not discuss this, Albus." He answered, remembering.

**Flashback**

_Frowning he watched the actual body of his son, the one that was not a ghost but a real child, shivering and moving restlessly. He didn't make big movements, but small ones only that indicated – he still was out but felt unwell nevertheless, restless. _

_Three days._

_It had been three days since he had taken the boy's body from the Dursleys, but still – neither was there any improvement concerning the boy's health nor was there any improvement concerning Harry the ghost going back into his own body and not for the first time he wondered – was the boy's body even able to recover while his ghost was separated from him?_

_Sighing he left the infirmary._

_He knew that he wouldn't be able doing anything to make the boy resting more peaceful right now, he had learned throughout the past few days that both forms of his son depended on each other – the more restless Harry's ghost was – the more restless was his physical form. And he always seemed restless whenever he was in that blasted tower of his._

**End flashback**

And so he had gone up there. Had given the password and had entered the Gryffindor common room, scowling at the bloody fat lady for calling after him that he was a Slytherin and that a Slytherin didn't have any dealings here. He was a head of a house and a head of a house was allowed in any common room – even if it was not common for them to visit those that were not their own.

The scene he had stumbled upon it had had him seething however.

**Flashback**

_"He's really going nuts, listen to this: 'He just couldn't die like this, at the hands of his uncle. He couldn't leave the world like this, there were so many things he wanted to say before he left, so many things he wanted to do, so many things he had to do before he left, he wanted to say good by to his friends and to tell them how much he loved them.' That's really gross." He heard Granger reading the moment he entered the Gryffindor common room, frowning at her words and slowly he went over to the wall where he would be shadowed so he would not be noticed immediately._

_"He's speaking of himself in the third person! And then here, listen: __'He needed to fulfil the prophecy and he had to destroy Voldemort for good. He needed to live and he needed to see Hogwarts one last time __… he didn't want to die and most importantly, he didn't want to die like this, he didn't want to die alone__.'__ The rest is missing, but I think we all can guess what he wrote, it's a last will, sort of." Granger said. "I can't believe he would actually write a last will, I mean, it isn't as if he _…_"_

_"And I cannot believe you just read that boy's personal thoughts to your entire house, Miss Granger." He said while stepping out into the room, the students who had been facing the idiot girl turning quickly, paling, while the girl quickly threw the remainder of the paper into the fireplace to her left. _

_"Accio Mr. Potter's lines." He drawled with a voice as cold as ice while waving his wand at the Gryffindor fireplace and a few pieces of paper floated out of the flames and over to him, plain and white muggle paper that was singed and burned and with another wave of his wand and a "repair yourself" the paper did as he had just asked of it. _

_"This will be fifty points taken from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for invading Mr. Potter's privacy and detention for the remainder of the month." He drawled, his dark eyes on the paling girl as cold as was his voice. "And another ten points for each person that so willingly had listened to Miss Granger's reading. I fear that this is the first time since this school has been invented that a house actually starts with being in the negative."_

**End flashback**

What he had seen upon entering the boy's _dormitory_ however – it had him startled and it again had angered him to unspeakable heights, the boy laying on the cold and stony floor beside his bed, sobbing with not only pain but with fear as well – and with shame.

Of course he had reported the incident to Dumbledore – who had done nothing so far.

"This – _blasted tower_ – is the Gryffindor tower and seeing that Mr. Potter _is_ a Gryffindor he will stay up there, Severus." Minerva said, her face resolute and he scowled at her.

"He will not, Minerva, at least not until your other Gryffindors have learned to handle their own classmates with a bit more humanity." He growled at her. As much as he respected Minerva amongst her colleagues, but sometimes that woman and her loyalty towards her lions who bullied other students was more than just annoying.

"Surely you are not implying that I would allow my students inappropriate behaviour, Severus!" Minerva gasped at him, startled. "Don't you think that this is a bit far fetched?"

"Do you know what I found after Miss Granger has read Mr. Potter's private thoughts aloud to the remainder of your house?" He hissed at the woman, leaning close. "I have found Mr. Potter laying on the floor beside his bed because the Misters Weasley, Finnigan and Thomas have urinated on his bed – simply because they wanted to know if a ghost would mind a wet bed at all."

That at least shut the woman up and he scowled one last time before straightening up, barely able to keep from growling out aloud.

"Has even _anyone_ ever looked in on the boy before he – died?" Snape asked, wondering why it was that he felt so angry at the boy being so easily pushed aside now that his destiny concerning the Dark Lord was so unsure, as he seemed dead and his dark eyes especially pierced the old headmaster, Dumbledore, who took a deep breath. "And now not even here at Hogwarts he can feel safe. Is this not what this castle was meant to be there for?"

"I understand, Severus." The old man said at that, and he scowled. Dumbledore for once had gotten his hint. "I shall find a new place to sleep for him immediately and a new guardian for him during the school year. I just don't know who would take in a ghost boy."

"He can't be brought back anyway." Filius said, leaning back in his armchair and the Potions Master lifted his eyebrow at the half goblin. "Well, considering Poppy's reports so far, I am just surprised that his accidental magic didn't flare and kill his relatives during one or another episode of their abuse. Maybe he just was afraid of using his magic for being beaten because of it and so he suppressed it."

"And now he has locked it completely within his own core." The Potions Master whispered, more to himself than to anyone else, remembering the boy trying to cast a warming charm at his soup he'd had him eating two days earlier – the charm being cast unsuccessfully, as had been some others.

"Do you think that he will go back to his body anytime soon?" The charms teacher asked and he took a deep breath.

"He will be going back the moment he has learned that he can go back, there being someone who really cares about him and I fear not anytime sooner." He answered.

"Well, then we have to tell him." Pomona said, smiling happily.

"That won't work." He drawled, his dark eyes blazing angrily. "He won't believe words anymore but only actions. He needs to trust the adults around him and that won't happen anytime soon after he has been abused for years and to the point of his death."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_surely Snape would stay Snape  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

22 Points - Slytherin

13 Points - Ravenclaw

08 Points - Gryffindor

07 Points - Hufflepuff


	19. surely Snape would stay Snape?

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

January, 12th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"Do you think that he will go back to his body anytime soon?" The charms teacher asked and he took a deep breath._

_"He will be going back the moment he has learned that he can go back, there being someone who really cares about him and I fear not anytime sooner." He answered._

_"Well, then we have to tell him." Pomona said, smiling happily. _

_"That won't work." He drawled, his dark eyes blazing angrily. "He won't believe words anymore but only actions. He needs to trust the adults around him and that won't happen anytime soon after he has been abused for years and to the point of his death."_

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter nineteen **

**Surely Snape would stay Snape?**

He didn't really understand what was going on anymore.

**Flashback**

_He would give anything for being back in the hospital wing – for the first time since he was attending Hogwarts, he actually wanted being there. Back there he at least hadn't been alone and shunned. But he had known that Snape would send him away. He had kept his body in the hospital wing and had sent him, the ghost away, and he had known that this would happen. Snape apparently was able dealing with his still body that wasn't able to speak and say his mind or give contradictions, that wouldn't look at the Potions Master or wouldn't annoy him in any other way. _

_Of course it was much easier handling the always sleeping form of his body! And so of course he had sent him, the ghost, away! He had known that this would happen, so what? _

_But being here, in his dorm – he'd felt alone and he'd been scared when he had been back the first night, last night, and he had silently cried, had tried to cast a silencing shield around his bed like he so often had done since he attended a wizarding school to keep the nightmares secret from the other boys in his dormitory, but he hadn't been able to, his shield seemed to have lost its effect. The other Gryffindors had seen that, that he wasn't able doing magic anymore, of course they had seen and then they had avoided him even more, had even started teasing him for being a ghost and a squib-ghost no less, or a ghost-squib, it varied._

_But he didn't understand! _

_They had been friends, hadn't they? At least he had been friends with Ron and Hermione, but the only one who did not tease him and who didn't call him a squib-ghost or something like that – was Neville now. But Neville too avoided him after he'd been cornered by the others for speaking with him, the ghost. _

_Nearly headless Nick had scolded them for it, had told them that he, as a ghost, did not approve of them handling him, Harry, the way they did, but he couldn't actually do anything either and neither did he speak with him – no blame here, he wasn't a hundred percent real ghost after all._

_Well – never mind what, never mind if being alive or dead – he always would be the freak as it seemed._

**End flashback**

First Snape had taken him from the great hall and to the hospital wing and had cared for him, then he had taken his body from the Dursleys and after that he had dumped him, the ghost, at the Gryffindor tower. A day later he had come and taken him from there after he had been very angry at something he didn't know and had taken him to a room that was down in the dungeons and behind his office, one that was clean and actually cosy. There wasn't a bed, but a very large and comfortable sofa, a table with a large armchair and a wardrobe. There was a bathroom even close by, with a shower, but the strangest thing was – there was a large window even if he knew that Snape's office was deep in the dungeons and therefore deep beneath the earth.

Walking down the staircase that led into the dungeons and to the potions classroom he wondered where he would be placed next.

Or with whom?

He wasn't so sure anymore if his place and the persons around him would stay the same or if he would be shoved from one place to the next and from one person to the next.

No, he really didn't understand what was going on anymore.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Well, and then Professor McGonagall.

Never before had he seen her so angry and strict like during the past two days.

During meals in the great hall she had looked angry, cold and stern whenever she had looked over at them, the Gryffindors, and at first he had thought that it was because of him, Harry, being a ghost and then being Snape's son even, that McGonagall surely would not be very happy with him because of it, but she had looked like this at all of them, and especially at Ron, Hermione, Dean and Seamus, and she never had spoken to them since Snape had taken him from the tower. She hadn't even inclined her head in greeting when passing them!

And that meant something, because normally McGonagall was a very polite witch, strict and demanding, cold-like sometimes even, but caring for manners and always at least greeting people, even those she didn't like so much.

However, at first he had thought that it had been because of him, that McGonagall had been so cold and angry, nearly like Snape, but then there had been transfiguration this very morning – and, no, he didn't think anymore that she was this way because of him being a ghost or the son of one Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry.

"You just take away your wands, ladies and gentlemen." She had said. "As you seem unable following simple rules of living together at a place like Hogwarts and instead invade not only the privacy of fellow students but happily listen to said private thoughts being read openly, not to mention some of you suffering from incontinence or the urge to bully other students with terms like squib-ghost what is ridiculous to begin with – you will have to being taught manners before I can teach you anything else, I fear. We will begin with the house rules. You will write them down during the next ninety minutes and you will copy them ten times until your next transfiguration lesson. I also expect each of you to have learned them by heart until then as I of course will question you – all of you – during your next transfiguration lesson. And you better do not fail then! Begin!"

And with a wave of her wand the house rules had appeared on the board and they had started copying them. Of course he had known that someone must have told something to McGonagall, maybe Neville, or the twins maybe, he didn't know.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

However, Snape and he, they hadn't spoken about that father and son thing anymore since that day in the infirmary when Snape had been so strange suddenly, had reacted as if he had accepted it and as if he was absolutely alright with it, had even behaved the way a father maybe would behave, had told him to take a bath, to dress in a pyjama and then go to bed and sleep or at least rest.

It had been strange, really, but he had liked it, that there suddenly had been someone who had told him what to do, it had showed him that there was someone who cared.

Snape hadn't done so anymore after that, but he had bathed in the memory whenever he had been alone and whenever he wished for that kind of comfort again – what had been rather often, he had to admit, blushing, and hoping that no one would notice his blush. And then Snape had taken him from his dorm when he'd been in pain and scared of the others coming back after they had – well, had wet his bed. It had been so disgusting and humiliating and he hadn't been able to keep from crying.

Looking up he noticed that he had reached the potions laboratory and he took a deep breath before he entered, knowing what would await him inside. It was the first potions class since the start of term for him and he wasn't sure what to expect. Snape had become less sarcastic and he hadn't hurt him at all since – well, since he had taken him from the great hall, but – that only had been because he was his father now and surely Snape would stay Snape?

Taking a deep breath he entered the classroom and then looked for a place in the back of the room where he knew he would be undisturbed – from Gryffindors as well as from Slytherins. He wasn't sure what the problem with Ron was, and with Hermione, except of course that he was a ghost and that surely no one wanted to be friends with a ghost, but except of that – well, he better kept his distance for now, until he had a better view of the thing or something like that, he didn't know really.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_a chamber behind  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

27 Points - Slytherin

13 Points - Ravenclaw

10 Points - Gryffindor

09 Points - Hufflepuff


	20. a chamber behind

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

January, 14th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Looking up he noticed that he had reached the potions laboratory and he took a deep breath before he entered, knowing what would await him inside. It was the first potions class since the start of term for him and he wasn't sure what to expect. Snape had become less sarcastic and he hadn't hurt him at all since – well, since he had taken him from the great hall, but – that only had been because he was his father now and surely Snape would stay Snape? _

_Taking a deep breath he entered the classroom and then looked for a place in the back of the room where he knew he would be undisturbed – from Gryffindors as well as from Slytherins. He wasn't sure what the problem with Ron was, and with Hermione, except of course that he was a ghost and that surely no one wanted to be friends with a ghost, but except of that – well, he better kept his distance for now, until he had a better view of the thing or something like that, he didn't know really. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter twenty **

**A chamber behind**

The classroom had slowly filled up while Harry had been sitting there, musing, until – with a loud bell – the second class of a new week began. A moment later the door to the potions classroom opened and in stepped briskly one Severus Snape, his father, the Potions Master, the swirl of his black robes surely being patented and making him looking exceptionally tough and harsh today, dangerous somehow. Did this mean that he wasn't in the best mood? Well, if – then surely it would be anything else than a pleasant potions lesson, but he was used to this, wasn't he?

The teacher strode up to his desk and slammed his book down sharply with his trademark snarl firmly in place and Harry immediately flinched, unable to keep himself from thinking back to his first year potions lessons.

"Cease your incoherent chattering this instant and turn your books to page thirty-three." Snape spat, instantly quietening the class without having to raise his voice over the level of noise.

The straight and tall, proud figure of the Potions Master walked down the aisles of desks, making sure that every student did as demanded.

As he passed Harry, he couldn't help but notice the boy averting his eyes, a small pink tint rising to his otherwise so ghostly and pale cheeks and he arched an eyebrow, wondering why his son was acting so peculiar lately. He usually always had kept eye contact during the last year, not afraid to look straight into his eyes. Just like his mother. Just like Lily. And for a moment he stopped mid-step. Where he until now always had seen James Potter in the boy, in his behaviour and in his work – he now noticed all the things that were Lily.

Lily. Why had Lily listened to Dumbledore?

Closing his eyes he gently placed a hand onto the startled boy's shoulder, giving a short inclining of his head and then walking on, forcing himself to quickly shrug off the thought while making his way back to the front of the classroom.

"Now, as you can obviously tell, today you will all be brewing a truth serum." He then said, earning a few moans and groans which he instantly quieted with his trademark sneer and the drawl of his next words. "As it is, the most potent truth serum, veritaserum, is forbidden for students to brew as well as it is – regrettably – forbidden to be used on students. However, you will find that the truth serum you will be brewing today is just as effective as is veritaserum – as you all will be learning in your next lesson during which I will teach you a lesson in privacy being invaded. I suggest you all get to work, for it is a particularly tricky potion, and the process will be long. Any mistakes will be causing detention for the remainder of the month." Everyone began working immediately, knowing well that if they didn't he would surely keep them after class for lack of determination.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He went back to his desk and sat down, beginning to grade a stack of parchments he had taken up from the first years that very morning.

He knew that he had half an hour until the first accident could happen and so he continued grading the first years' papers while he watched the students – and one student in particular, Harry Potter, Harry Snape actually, his son.

Potter definitely had adopted the boy, he was sure of that or Harry never would have taken on the blasted man's appearance, his mop of unruly hair and some other things like the softer and rounder face and the need for those atrocious glasses.

Speaking of glasses – narrowing his eyes he looked at the boy again, noticing the child squinting his eyes and he also suddenly realized that he did not wear any glasses since he had come back to Hogwarts to begin with. As much as he had changed back his appearance to what the boy should look like, it had not changed his eyesight as well back to normal so – maybe there was another reason as to _why_ the boy had such a bad eyesight to begin with? He would have to look into this a bit more closely – as into other things.

Including how a son of him had managed landing himself in the house of Godoric Gryffindor. Not that he was angry at the boy for it, he could live with a son of his being a Gryffindor, Lily had been a Gryffindor after all just as well and most likely Harry came a bit more after his mother than after his father.

And yet – as much as he always had been loath to admit it, but he always had wondered how the boy had been as talented in potions.

Of course Harry only had gotten _bad_ marks in potions – seeing that it had been him, Snape, who had given the boy those bad marks. But in truth he knew – the boy's potions only then had turned out being useless after Draco had thrown something into Harry's cauldron to destroy his work. And even then – Harry more than once had managed saving his potions by adding counter ingredients that would absorb any poisonous or destroying effect – something he never had taught his students below NEWTs.

Not to mention that the boy wielded the potions knife with a skill that actually was startling and he only seemed to screw up his practical work if he, Snape, advanced on him threateningly. And if Harry had known that he was his father last year already – then it only was understandable. How must the boy have felt, being handled like this by him, by his own father! And nevertheless he somehow had managed to impress him with his practical work, even if he never would have admitted it in his wildest dreams. If only his written work would be as successful as his practical work, his essays always being copies from Granger's.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Of course Longbottom had blown up his cauldron, but commenting on the boy's usual standard he had told him that no – he would not have detention as anything else than blowing up his cauldron surely would have been more a mistake on the Gryffindor's side. They all were used to his cauldrons being blown up after all.

In truth he had not given Longbottom the announced detention because – he was the only Gryffindor second year at the present time that was not bullying Harry just because he was a ghost.

None of the others had made mistakes, not even Weasley as Granger had whispered instructions into his ear for the entire lesson. But he had watched them, and as it seemed – his comment about the next lesson and them learning what it meant their privacy being invaded – yes, they all knew what his words had meant and what would await them in three days. Some of them had thrown angry looks at Harry, most of them Weasley, Thomas and Finnigan while others had ignored the back of the classroom or – like in the case of Longbottom, had thrown nearly apologetic glances at Harry – what had been another reason as to why he had _not_ given him detention for blowing up his cauldron.

The Slytherins had looked more puzzled than anything else about his comment, even a bit scared and he knew the reason to that, them fearing that the Gryffindors would find out about any of their secrets concerning their home lives. Did those idiots really think he would betray them like this and ask them questions that would give away their secrets? It was not their fault after all what had happened and seeing that he was Slytherin, there were thousands of questions he could ask of them that would be harmless or even fun for them to answer.

However, their curiosity had even spiked when he had laid his hand at Harry's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Of course they had noticed, where the Gryffindors had not, he huffed for a moment.

Harry himself, he had looked scared and frightened at not only the prospect of being questioned under a truth serum while not trusting him, Snape, but also at the prospect of having yet another potions lesson with his father making those classes a living hell – what again had been the reason as to why he had comforted the boy in his class, something he _never_ did in such an open form, not even with his Slytherins and surely never with any Gryffindor.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

However, said Gryffindor was currently on his way down to the dungeons to serve his detention – not because he had made a mistake during potions class, no, but because he had not been ready to speak to him about the abuse. He had threatened the boy with detention if he wouldn't and he now _had_ given him detention for the boy's refusal until he would speak to him about what had happened. Not to mention that he still needed to know the boy that was his son a bit better.

As soon as he had addressed Dumbledore with the issue of taking Lily and Harry from him and of then blocking his memory, he would finally be able taking the boy into his quarters, seeing that he couldn't leave him in that bloody tower of his after what had happened. He had put him up in the chamber behind his office down in the dungeons, but this was no long-time solution. The boy was twelve and he needed not only company but an adult who looked after him as well.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

When Harry stopped outside of Snape's office, he considered on knocking a couples of times, but he thought better of it each time he lifted his hand, too afraid of actually entering the office that had become the worst place at Hogwarts throughout the last school year, except for the potions classroom of course and except for the potions laboratory, afraid what his father might do to him now, when he was alone with him in the snake's pit.

"Cease standing outside this door, Mr. Potter, and do come in, instead – tonight, if possible." He heard the Potions Master's drawl and he flinched at the "Mr. Potter" his father used. So – Snape regretted having had admitted that he was his son.

Slowly, feeling numb, he placed his hand onto the doorknob and then opened the door, slipped into the potions classroom and then closed the door. He stood there for a moment, in front of Snape's desk, and he just wasn't able to look into the man's dark eyes.

Snape didn't make any sense. Caring for him, then dumping him off in the tower, then taking him from his dorm, then dumping him in a room in the dungeon, after that comforting him in potions and now regretting that he had admitted to him that he was his son and calling him 'Potter' instead.

"I … I'm here for … for my detention, professor." He managed to get out, looking into the Potions Master's direction and waiting for permission to start on scrubbing cauldrons. He knew why he had those detentions and he knew what detention was like with Snape. It meant scrubbing cauldrons for hours after hours.

Snape simply waved him closer and the nervous boy ghost made his way slowly up to the older wizard's desk.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_detention with Snape  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

30 Points - Slytherin

17 Points - Ravenclaw

13 Points - Gryffindor

15 Points - Hufflepuff


	21. detention with Snape

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

January, 16th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Slowly, feeling numb, he placed his hand onto the doorknob and then opened the door, slipped into the potions classroom and then closed the door. He stood there for a moment, in front of Snape's desk, and he just wasn't able to look into the man's dark eyes. _

_Snape didn't make any sense. Caring for him, then dumping him off in the tower, then taking him from his dorm, then dumping him in a room in the dungeon, after that comforting him in potions and now regretting that he had admitted to him that he was his son and calling him 'Potter' instead. _

_"I … I'm here for … for my detention, professor." He managed to get out, looking into the Potions Master's direction and waiting for permission to start on scrubbing cauldrons. He knew why he had those detentions and he knew what detention was like with Snape. It meant scrubbing cauldrons for hours after hours._

_Snape simply waved him closer and the nervous boy ghost made his way slowly up to the older man's desk._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter twenty-one **

**Detention with Snape**

"I see you finally have decided to grace me with your presence." Severus said, to which Harry looked off to the side and he waited, leaving the Potions Master frowning, wondering why the boy wouldn't defend himself, wouldn't tell him that he'd been there punctually but hadn't dared to actually knock.

"Very well, follow me." He said, getting to his feet and leading the boy towards his potions laboratory.

He watched the young ghost out of the corner of his eyes and he noticed that he shuffled his feet while trudging along behind him and he noticed slumped shoulders and a defeated sigh too. Well, he knew that the brat expected having to scrub cauldrons, but he looked as if there was a different problem than that too. He soon had noticed after all that the boy didn't really mind cleaning cauldrons, doing so with an experience that made clear – he had done so before, and most likely with his relatives.

"I take it you do remember the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" He asked, gesturing at one of the worktables while getting a cutting board from one of the shelves.

"There is none." Harry said, quietly, his eyes cast at the floor with a look that was strangely lost and he knew which scene he remembered. "Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant that also goes by the name of aconite."

The exact same words he had used to answer his own question with a year ago and he was startled that the boy had remembered them as clearly as that.

"Can we summon this plant?" He asked, his dark eyes on the boy with no expression at all in them.

"No, sir." The boy answered. "Using magic on aconite before it is added to a potion would destroy the magical effect it can enfold in a potion."

"Then I suggest you go to the storage and get a basket of this particular plant." He said. "You also will need a chopping board, a knife and then I expect you to prepare half of it properly for being used in a potion to heal high fever and the other half of it properly for being used in a potion to heal anxiety."

With a quiet "yes, sir" the boy left and came back five minutes later with a basket filled with the plant he had asked for. He didn't give away another explanation but he kept close to the boy and watched him cleaning, chipping and pounding the plant just the closer – just in case the child would be stupid enough to bring his fingers to his face, while he at the same time wondered wherefrom he knew how to prepare the plant for those potions to begin with as they had not covered them yet in the boy's class.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"So – I take it we both had enough time by now getting used to the thought of being – related." He started at one point, knowing that he had to not only talk to the boy but that he also had to bring up the subject of their relationship as well. Even if he knew that this particular conversation would be very awkward.

The boy shrugged his shoulders, but he could see the ghostlike face losing some of the blankness and getting attentive – even if the boy clearly tried to hide it and for a moment he couldn't help wondering if the boy was as afraid of being rejected as was he, Snape. Could it be that the boy wanted this relationship, but that he didn't dare admitting it? If so, then – but no, he did not have to ask that question.

It was clear what he had to do – it was him who was the adult here, while Harry, while his son was just – a child. And so it was him who had to step low and reach out a hand for the boy to take, hoping that the boy would do just that instead of rejecting him.

"You are working instinctively." He said, pointing at the boy who was chipping some of the aconite, watching him chipping it lengthwise instead of widthwise like most other children would have done.

"Thank you." Harry quietly answered and Snape frowned at the child who still did not look up at him.

"Do you see this detention as a punishment to make you miserable?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at the boy.

"No, sir." Said boy answered, still not looking up at him and his frown deepened. "Otherwise you had me cleaning out cauldrons."

"And yet you seem to have a problem with the situation." He mused aloud. "I do understand that a boy your age does have other – things in mind than …"

"No, sir." The boy said, looking up at him for the first time, looking startled actually. "It's just … that's just what I don't understand …"

"That I go easy on you?" Snape asked, frowning confused when the boy did not go on. "What would be the benefit if I had you doing a task that did not allow us to have a conversation while working?" He then asked. "Face it, child, you are my son and so I of course intend on getting to know you better."

"Then why would you go back and forth all the time?" The boy now actually placed the knife at the board and his hands started to go into a complicated knot, the fingers tangled into each other. "Why would you first care for me and then dump me in the Gryffindor tower after retrieving my body from … well, _there_! And why would you then get me from the tower to dump me in a room somewhere in the dungeons! And why would you … you've called me … and now you're back to calling me _'Potter'_! I … I don't … I just …"

Blinking at the boy in shock he just in time noticed the boy bringing up one of his hands that was curled into a fist, to brush away tears that suddenly had appeared on the pale face and again, just in time he managed to grab the thin wrist, for a moment actually fearing that he would grip thin air instead of the wrist, to stop the boy touching his face with the fingers that just moments before had touched one of the most potent poisonous plants existing – to have a child in front of him that gave away a choked scream of fear and tried to get out of the grip on pure instinct that told him – get free and run if you want to survive.

"I will not harm you, Harry." He quietly said, not releasing the boy's wrist but increasing his grip instead. "Calm down and take a deep breath – I will not harm you, but if you had touched your face, especially your eyes with fingers having been in so close and intense contact with the sap of one of the deathliest plant existent, you had harmed yourself."

There was silence for a moment before the child really took a deep breath and then gave him a jerky nod of his head. Slowly he released the boy's wrist when it was clear that he would not finished his previous movement, and with a face as indifferent as possible he took the boy's hand into his own and drew his wand, ignoring the flinch the small ghost-like form gave away and casting a cleaning charm before doing the same with the boy's other hand – before handing him a handkerchief.

Of course he didn't know if the boy would die because of the plant's poison coming in contact with his mouth or eyes, seeing that he was a ghost and at least this form of his son clearly being dead – but he wasn't ready to take any risks, not the slightest!

"You seem to be under the misconception that I am looking for a way out of this relationship." He then calmly said, suddenly understanding the entirety of the situation. "And considering those creatures you had the misfortune of growing up with, it only is understandable as they seemed to have taught you nothing except of you being unwanted, not worth their care and nothing than a bother they had to deal with. So just to rectify your notion – it has not been my intention to – _dump you anywhere_ when I sent you back to your dormitory or placed you in the chamber behind my office. It rather has been the only solution at the time as the headmaster and your head of house demanded you being in your tower where you belonged to as the Gryffindor you are after your injuries have healed. I however have my hands bound in getting you into my own quarters at the present time as I first have to make sure that the headmaster cannot interfere in any way possible that would set you or your safety at risk."

There again was no answer but at least he had the boy's attention and he hadn't expected an answer anyway. At the present time the young ghost hung on his lips like a man dying of thirst – and again, understandable as most likely the boy had never before had an adult who had talked to him and who had listened to him, who had not punished him for asking questions or for speaking at all. Of course he had the boy's attention now. It was what any adult should have done earlier.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It had been … well … satisfying to work with his son, loath as he was to admit that. He had been an excellent assistant and the conversation – as awkward as it had been at some points – hadn't been too bad either. So he actually had been startled upon casting a quick tempus and noticing that it was nearly midnight. A quick glance at the boy had showed him that the little ghost had definitely seemed ready to drop and with a scowl at his own stupidity he had taken the knife from the boy's fingers, again startling the brat in the act. He had cast another cleaning and disinfectant spell before leading him out of the laboratory and back into his office.

He had led him to the backroom of his office where he had suggested the boy to lay down and sleep, green eyes having blinked up at him unfocused and sleepily when he had placed a blanket over the boy ghost.

"G'nigh' pr'fess'r." The boy had murmured, the words slurred and barely understandable, and he had raised an eyebrow before he had frowned, for a short moment wondering if that child had ever had an adult whom he could have said 'good night' to, in coherent words or not.

"Good night, idiot child." He had growled before quickly turning and leaving the room.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_Magic isn't real  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

32 Points - Slytherin

19 Points - Ravenclaw

14 Points - Gryffindor

16 Points - Hufflepuff


	22. magic isn't real

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

January, 18th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_He had led him to the backroom of his office where he had suggested the boy to lay down and sleep, green eyes having blinked up at him unfocused and sleepily when he had placed a blanket over the boy ghost. _

_"G'nigh' pr'fess'r." The boy had murmured, the words slurred and barely understandable, and he had raised an eyebrow before he had frowned, for a short moment wondering if the boy had ever had an adult whom he could have said 'good night' to, in coherent words or not._

_"Good night, idiot child." He had growled before quickly turning and leaving the room._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter twenty-two **

**magic isn't real**

He had left the room and he had left his office through a door that led to his own quarters. He then had gone to bed himself and it hadn't taken him long to fall asleep.

It hadn't taken him long to get woken again however – and now he was currently trying to calm a twelve year old ghost who was trapped in a nightmare, his hands simply going through the translucent form, unable to hold the young ghost he had been able to hold for the past few days – and his own nerves were starting to flare with dread. Did this mean that the boy finally went into a ghost completely? What would happen with the boy's body if that was what was happening?

It had been not even an hour later when an alarm had woken him, and it had taken him a minute until he had been able figuring out what exactly the alarm meant, remembering having it cast at the boy when he had left the chamber, the alarm waking him upon the boy waking and he had slipped into a bathrobe, had left his private quarters, had hurried to his office and into the chamber behind.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Harry, damn!" He shouted in pure frustration, already drawing his wand to cast an aquamenti – a moment later however the boy bolted upright on the sofa, shaking and backing away into the farthest corner of the furniture, pulling the blanket close with two trembling hands and Snape nearly sighed with relief.

The boy was awake and he was still able touching things, he wasn't a real ghost yet.

"What happened?" He asked, causing the boy to look up at him sharply, large green eyes expressing a terror he seldom had seen in a child's eyes and he was not prepared for the onslaught of uncovered memories he suddenly received.

_"You're never going back to that freak school!" Dursley screamed at the crying boy while he brought down a cane over the small and shaking form. "Magic isn't real and you're no wizard! You're just a monstrous beast! Magic isn't real and you're no wizard!"_

_Another scene but again Dursley bringing down the cane over the already bleeding form of a wizarding child, of Harry Potter. "Say it! Magic isn't real and you're no wizard! Say it!"_

_"Magic isn't real …" The boy chocked out, crying, screaming with pain whenever the cane left another welt on the already beaten body, some of them even bleeding. "'M no wizard …"_

_Again it was another scene, but again it was the cane that was brought down by Dursley, beating the small body of a boy that remembered more at a bloody mess than at an actual child. "Say it, you monstrous beast! Magic isn't real! And you're no wizard!"_

_"Magic isn't real!" The boy shouted, screamed with a desperate voice. "I'm no wizard!"_

Forcing his own occlumency shields up he stood there, rooted to the spot for a moment, his stomach squirming with the horror he had witnessed just a second before and again he suddenly understood – the boy flinching upon him, Snape, drawing his wand, the boy flinching upon the spell being cast at him, the boy not adding his magic to the potion like he had done the previous year – even if he had been the only first year who had done so as he only taught his NEWT students how to add magic to a potino – and last but not least, the boy not being able doing a simple warming charm, the boy not even having gotten his own wand out of his trunk yet.

And he _knew_ that the boy's wand was in there as he himself had placed it there when he had picked up Harry's things from number four Privet Drive a few days ago. The boy's wand, which had been hidden beneath the flimsy mattress in the cupboard, it was there, but the boy ghost never had used it since he was here at Hogwarts – nor had he done any kind of magic at all so far except of accidental magic.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"You do realize, Harry, that you are a ghost – in some strange way at least – and that a ghost cannot be beaten?" He asked, but nevertheless the fearful look didn't leave the boy's eyes and face and neither did his wary posture and he shook his head. "I do know what you think – I can touch you, and so I could beat you also. But I will _not_ beat you, Harry." He continued, his voice going from sarcastic to soft and gentle. "I would not harm you and I would not starve you or lock you away." He said while slowly extending his hand, knowing that words were not going to be enough, and placing his own wand atop the blanket, just in front of the boy, close enough so that the child could have taken it if he had wanted to – and even if he felt a bolt of dread at the loss of his wand, wanting nothing else than snatching it back from the makeshift bed – he knew that the boy ghost would not take it, Harry not making the slightest movement, just looking at it, still trembling.

He just as slowly went over to the boy's trunk and opened it, taking the wand from the top of the stack of clothes where he had placed it, reminding himself again that he would have to remedy the boy's clothing-problem soon. The boy still was not paying attention to him, seemed to be thinking over his, Severus' words, clearly wanting to _feel_ them, to feel safe. He actually could feel it radiating off the boy, the deep wish of wanting to feel safe for once in his life.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry was sitting there, his eyes at the Professor's wand and he knew that there had been a time when he easily could have taken it to protect himself – but this was a long time ago. Rather he refocused at Snape's words – he would not beat him and he would not starve him, would not lock him away. And he had not done so, he knew. Words – that felt safe and he focused onto this strong need to feel safe.

A moment later the man placed another wand at the bed, the wand that once had belonged to him, and for a moment he stared at it, not knowing what to do, not knowing how to feel even.

How many times had he wanted to use it against his uncle? How many times had he wanted to do the unthinkable and to cast an unforgivable curse against his uncle? Or at least to do anything to protect himself against his uncle? Hundreds of times? Thousands of times? He didn't know.

But he hadn't … for thousands of reasons, for _millions_ of reasons, but the most important reason being, he would have been banned from the only place that had become a home for him, from Hogwarts, from the place where he at least had a father, never mind if his father hated him. And the second most important reason being, he didn't believe he could do it, he was too weak, it wouldn't work and then the wrath of his uncle would be even worse.

Not to mention – he was no wizard.

He didn't know if he really ever had been one, but he wasn't one now, he knew _that_.

Snape was one, and so he knew that – magic seemed to exist, as strange as it was, because if magic existed, then that meant that uncle Vernon had lied to him, but … Snape was one.

'_And Snape's your father.'_ A small voice in the back of his mind whispered. Did this mean that he was one too? A wizard? If uncle Vernon had lied to him one time, surely he could have lied to him about this as well?

Unable to deal with those thoughts, because he _knew_ that there was no magic and because he knew that he was no wizard either and that his father would have to punish him for alone those thoughts like his uncle had done so often, he cringed and pulled into a small ball, unable to stop himself from choking out a sobbed apology for having had those thoughts that were so very wrong and so very bad despite what his uncle had taught him in all those painful lessons.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Severus Snape, shocked still, watched the boy cringing, pulling into an even tighter ball, while he started to cry how he was sorry for whatever it was he had done, how he was sorry for even _thinking_ that he maybe could be a wizard despite his uncle's lesson, starting to promise that he would be good and to please not hit him again – and he wasn't able to keep from taking the small form into his arms, hoping that he would be _able_ doing so to begin with, remembering that he hadn't been able to just a few moments ago – it was nothing he would not do with one of his snakes either, he told himself.

At first the small body of his son stiffened in his arms, shaking and trying to free himself, but then he just tightened his grip until he felt the boy relaxing in his arms. He knew that _any_ neglected and abused child was starving for care and affection and other more physical things as well, like being embraced, like a hand that touched his shoulder or his arm in a way that was _not_ hurting him, that was comforting or reassuring him. On the other hand he also knew that the boy most likely ignored his own needs for physical comfort, that he had learned to accept the very little things he received like Granger's or Weasley's friendship, the educational concern of his head of house and now his, Snape's, reluctant attention.

"You _are_ a wizard." He quietly said while running his hand through the boy's hair. "Your uncle lied to you, as did your aunt. You _are_ a wizard. And magic _does_ exist. I do not expect you to take your wand right now, but I will place it at your nightstand and I expect you to not place it back in your trunk where it would be out of your sight."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_It's better than nothing though  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

36 Points - Slytherin

19 Points - Ravenclaw

16 Points - Gryffindor

20 Points - Hufflepuff


	23. it's better than nothing though

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

January, 20th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_On the other hand he also knew that the boy most likely ignored his own needs for physical comfort, that he had learned to accept the very little things he received like Granger's or Weasley's friendship, the educational concern of his head of house and his, Snape's, reluctant attention now._

_"You are a wizard." He quietly said while running his hand through the boy's hair. "Your uncle lied to you, as did your aunt. You are a wizard. And magic does exist. I do not expect you to take your wand right now, but I will place it at your nightstand and I expect you to not place it back in your trunk where it would be out of sight."_

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter twenty-three **

**It's better than nothing though**

The boy only shrugged in his arms and he frowned.

"You should not pretend that nothing ever happened, Harry." He calmly said, knowing that his next words would be dangerous words spoken to any abused child. "I have seen the layers of scars that is your body in general and your back in particular. And perhaps you could start with enlightening me on how you came to get that particular cut on your back that runs over your lower spine?" He knew that he was pushing the boy but he also knew that the boy needed to address the abuse, and soon, if he wanted to deal with his nightmares – if he wanted the boy ghost ready to go back into his body anytime soon.

"Can't mnember." The boy softly murmured, reverting to something akin to baby talk even, trying to turn in his arms to face away from him, to face the wall and Snape's heart skipped a beat, tightening his grip and keeping the boy from turning away, hoping that Harry was lying about not remembering. He knew that if Harry truly couldn't remember, then the boy had bigger emotional scars than anyone would have guessed, what most likely was the case anyway with what had happened.

"You do not need to conceal anything from me, Harry." He persisted, hoping that he would get through to the boy one day. "I have already seen everything. I have seen every bruise and broken bone as well as that dreadful cut on your back and your starved appearance."

The boy, unable to turn away, now struggled to hide his face further into the folds of his, Snape's, cloak and shook his head as if in denial. "'M tired, 'k? Please?" Snape wasn't about to let the boy off the hook that easily however.

"You will sleep much better if you stop pushing away or bottling up all the memories and begin to talk with me instead." He suggested. "It is not healthy to pretend that nothing ever happened, Harry."

The green eyes went large for a moment and again Snape clearly could see.

_"Boy you're going to pay for all the bad things you make happen!"_

_"Please uncle Vernon please, I'm trying … I'm trying so hard to change!" _

Again quickly pulling back he watched as Harry broke out in a cold sweat, pulling the covers tighter around himself and he himself tightened the grip his arms had on the small form. He had been able to feel the boy pushing the memory he had seen away, not being ready to talk about it. He clearly did not want to have to relive the terrible things that had happened.

"Harry talk to me. Tell me." Snape implored as he reached for Harry's hand again and rubbed the back of it with his thumb.

"Please … please don' make me say it." The boy sobbed in his arms. "It didn' happen an'way, _nothin'_ happened an'way."

Taking a deep breath Snape knew that he had reached the end of his rope, that he should be careful and that he should not push the boy any further than he could handle, but the boy was suppressing the abuse entirely and he knew that this wouldn't do at all.

"I will not allow you to deny what happened." He said while placing his hand onto the boy's face and pulling it up so the boy had to look at him. "It would not be beneficial to your well being. I will be with you through every step of the way but it is a journey you _must _take."

"'M tired, 'm real' tired." The child said in a panicked voice again trying to move away from Snape's touch and he knew that he wouldn't be able pushing the boy any further right now.

"It is alright, Harry. You're safe. Relax now and get some sleep, I will be here." He said, placing his hand on the boy's back again, feeling the tremor of the small body and it was eerie how the boy seemed to just obey while he watched the boy falling asleep a moment later.

Merlin, this was going to be a hard task, he thought, the boy seemed to be too frightened to even _think_ about what had happened at his relatives' house and truth to be told, Snape was frightened at that thought – even though he could understand. Anyone would be too frightened to even think about it, any adult man would be too frightened. So how could a child not be too scared by it?

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry himself just waited and waited and still waited patiently until he would be pushed away, until he would be beaten and hurt, but it never happened, he was pulled closer instead, the hand on his shoulder stopping him from turning away, the older man keeping him eye to eye, the dark eyes staring at him so intensely. But the man never pushed him away, and slowly he closed his eyes allowing himself to relax and to fall asleep.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"I would appreciate it if you sat down for breakfast instead of standing in the doorway, Harry." He said, approaching the boy from the side – who quickly moved out of his way and the Potions Master frowned. He knew that his son did not like being too close to adults, not when he was alone with them anyway. Too much things had happened to him when he had been alone with them. He just had to think at – Dursley, Petunia, Quirrel, Voldemort – and he himself, Snape.

Of course he never had physically hurt the boy, such a thing was not his ways, but he had abused the boy nevertheless, in different ways, but Harry had never before had an adult to live with whom he maybe could have trusted. He had never had a father who would protect him. And yet – he couldn't blame the boy, he knew that the child kept everyone at arm length from himself as a means of self protection, only wanting to keep himself safe and therefore keeping anyone far away from him.

He had been awakened by a soft whimper from the boy last night and he had looked over at the sleeping form squirming on the sofa, trapped in another nightmare and he gently had reached out his hand to place it at the boy's forehead – the young ghost immediately had calmed and seemed to relax under his touch.

So innocently.

The boy had looked so innocently, while seeming to lean into the touch, as needy of physical comfort as any neglected child was and he had thought back to the days when he had felt unable to stand the sight of the boy even. It had been hard to believe that he had ever felt so negatively towards that child and he had tried to remember when exactly his emotions towards Harry had changed, earlier in the week, in the infirmary at Hogwarts when the boy had reached his battered hand out to him for comfort, wondering how this insufferable child ever thought that he, Snape, could bring any kind of comfort.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"But …"

"I do not appreciate discussing over my decisions with my son, Harry." He drawled. "I have noticed you avoiding the great hall for meals and as I have learned over the past few days that you are able feeling pain, fear and other emotions as well as tiredness and exhaustion – I take it that you are able feeling hunger as well. So I expect you to sit down and eat breakfast here in my office instead of the great hall to make sure you eat _anything_ at all. Ghost or not – you are thin enough as it is and you do need each meal you can get. So sit down!"

"Oh …" The boy made and he lifted his eyebrow.

"Oh, indeed." He drawled. "So you see – if I give you an order then I _do_ have a reason behind my order and I expect you to follow it immediately and without any discussions."

"I've not planned on not ob- … sorry, sir." The boy said, starting to argue with him before averting his eyes and looking down at his feet that seemed very interesting suddenly, the boy's big toe moving behind the hole in the trainer and again the Potions Master was reminded that he had to remedy the boy's clothing problems.

"I do know that you have not been planning on disobeying, Harry, but while trying to discuss over my orders you already could be dead in a dangerous situation where your life might be at risk. If I give you an order then it is not because I intend on annoying you but because of I do intent on keeping you safe and healthy – and therefore I expect you to obey within the moment the order is given and without any discussions."

"Yes, sir." The boy said, his eyes still averted. "Sorry, sir."

"There is no need to apologize." He sighed. "Just do sit down and partake in breakfast."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry sat down, slowly, and he felt as if he had to take at least a sip of the tea to show that he understood. He grabbed for the cup and took a careful sip. It tasted sweet, like honey. Not something he would prefer to drink every day, but it was okay.

"It's sweet." He murmured.

"Mine was not." Snape said and he looked up at the man, curiously. It was one thing, Snape preparing breakfast in his office so that he, Harry, would eat anything at all, but it definitely was another thing, the man even admitting to a conversation with him. "So I think Zilly added some honey to yours. I do hope it is to your liking?"

"It's still tea. Dudley always was allowed to …" Quickly he drew in a sharp breath and started to stiffen. Why did he even start telling Snape about Dudley? He didn't even want to _think_ about the Dursleys any longer now that he was away from them for the next ten months! He would have to deal with them soon enough after the school year, there was no need to think about them now too.

"Please do continue your sentence." Snape said and he could feel the man eyeing him closely. "I would like to hear what you wanted to tell me, Harry."

"It's absolutely nothing, really." He said in a rush, hoping that the Potions Master would let it drop. "Only boring stuff 'bout the Dursleys, really, an' noth'n that you'd want to hear me whining 'bout an'way."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Harry …" The Potions Master called the boy's name, still feeling strange at using hsi son's given name but immediately knowing that said boy would not react, was rather looking aside again. "Harry!" He called out a second time in the hope that the boy would look at him, but Harry just stared at his cup of tea. "Please do look at me." He then requested, letting his request sound like a command and finally the boy was looking at him. "If you feel uncomfortable talking about your relatives or what happened at your old home with me, it is understandable – but absolutely not avoidable. I will not allow you to play it down or brush it aside as if nothing had happened. And do not tell me what I would or would not be interested in." Severus had forced himself to speak calmly and gently – as gently as it was possible for him at least.

"I just wanted to say that Dudley, my cousin, always was allowed to drink hot chocolate or sweet juice, and I had to drink plain water or tea that had become cold and bitter, at least after they had found out how much I hate it." The boy said after long moments of hesitancy. "It's been better than nothing though." He added, looking at his cup and then seemed to decide gulping it down in one go so that he, most likely, didn't have to think about it any longer, but – and to his own surprise – he put his hand on the thin arm and stopped the brat.

A moment later a cup of hot chocolate was standing on the table in front of his son who looked at the cup and then up at him with large eyes.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_Ghost or not – you need to rest  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading – and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

46 Points - Slytherin

22 Points - Ravenclaw

18 Points - Gryffindor

23 Points - Hufflepuff


	24. ghost or not – you need to rest

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

January, 22nd 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"If you feel uncomfortable talking about your relatives or what happened at your old home with me, it is understandable – but absolutely not avoidable. I will not allow you to play it down or brush it aside as if nothing had happened. And do not tell me what I would or would not be interested in." Severus had forced himself to speak calmly and gently - as gently as it was possible for him at least._

_"I just wanted to say that Dudley, my cousin, always was allowed to drink hot chocolate or sweet juice, and I had to drink plain water or cold and bitter tea after they had found out how much I hate it." The boy said after long moments of hesitancy. "It's been better than nothing though." He added, looking at his cup and then seemed to decide gulping it down in one go so that he, most likely, didn't have to think about it any longer, but – and to his own surprise – he put his hand on his arm and stopped the brat._

_A moment later a cup of hot chocolate was standing on the table in front of his son who looked at the cup and then up at him with large eyes. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter twenty-four **

**Ghost or not – you need to rest**

It had been a rather calm day so far – history of magic and then herbology.

The strange thing had been that Snape had been there in front of the greenhouse after herbology, already waiting for him and he had frowned in confusion. Well, and then the Potions Master had told him to follow him, had led him down into the dungeons and back into his office – where he had him eating lunch.

Really strange.

It was one thing Snape waiting in his office until he, Harry, came out of the chamber behind to have him eating breakfast, but it was another thing to even wait in front of the greenhouse after herbology so that he could take him back into his office for lunch! That surely wasn't normal, was it? And how was it that Snape knew his timetable so well? It wasn't as if he was one of Snape's Slytherins after all, or something like that.

_"No – but you are his son."_ A small voice in his mind said. _"So of course he knows your timetable, idiot!"_

Well, they'd had lunch and then – he actually had blinked at the man in shock – Snape, his father, had told him to rest!

**Flashback**

_"I suggest that you unpack your trunk, Harry." The Potions Master said. "You surely will not remain living here as this chamber is only a temporary solution, but I do not know how long it will take me to provide complete security against the headmaster. I will not risk anything when it comes to you – meaning that you will have to stay here for a few days."_

_"You … you won't be in trouble, will you?" The blasted boy asked and he nearly growled. Leave it to this bloody Gryffindor to worry about him, Snape, instead of about himself, seeing that he was a – ghost, for Merlin's sake!_

_"No, I won't be in trouble." He answered instead, knowing that the boy only meant well. "I however would be more at ease if you already lived in my private quarters and so yes – I would like having you as comfortable as possible and not living out of your trunk."_

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

_"'K …" He said, the man's words ringing in his ears still._

_"I would be more at ease if you already lived in my privet quarters."_

_Did this mean that his father still cared? That he really had not been dumping him here but that it really only was an emergency solution? That he really wanted to take him in? But it was Snape, and what would it mean to live with that particular man that hated him so much? _

_Well, or at least disliked him so much?_

_"I expect you to rest for an hour before that though." Snape said and he blinked at the man in shock._

_"But why should I … 'm sorry, sir." He said, remembering Snape's – his father's – lecture about discussing over his orders during breakfast this very morning and he definitely was not ready to try the man yet – or better not ever. He knew that Snape could become very nasty at the best and he feared that he could be just as violent as had been his uncle at the worst. So – no, better not trying anything with the Potions Master. _

_But he was twelve! _

_Why should he take an afternoon nap? He wasn't a baby anymore! He wasn't even a firstie anymore but a second year!_

_"Because you are easily tired and exhausted." Snape seriously said, his voice sounding like a lecture but at the same time he knew that it wouldn't be a flaming like it had been for the past year. "You are a child and as the child you are, you do not seem to take this as seriously as an adult would. But you are a ghost still, your body is knocking at death's door still and you yourself have been seriously injured – I guess we do not have to mention the injuries on your body itself. You might be healed – **partly** – but you are not healthy yet and we surely do not have to speak of any mental damage, considering your very persistent nightmares. Ghost or not, Harry, you need rest and this is not up for discussion."_

**End flashback**

And right now he was unpacking his trunk, after he had taken a nap like his father had suggested. Well, the most embarrassing thing here clearly had been him _actually_ _falling asleep_ during his nap and he had blushed furiously when he had woken and found Snape sitting in the room he'd been given with the man sitting in an armchair beside his bed, watching him in his sleep.

It definitely had been scary.

He rummaged in his trunk, taking out his books, the ones from last year and those from this current year, and placed them onto one of the shelves. He also put there the stack of parchment Snape had brought together with his trunk and the books he'd need for this year. He put the photo album Hagrid had given him at the end of last year, the wizarding chess he had gotten from Christmas crackers last year and the box of rune stones he had gotten from someone unknown last year either at another shelf.

The letter his mother had written him so many years ago, he placed it beneath his pillow, like he had done all last year, his heart racing at the reminder of his mother's words, thinking for a moment, wondering if maybe – just _maybe_ – they could come true? That maybe – just _maybe_ – Snape might really acknowledge him as his son one day? He didn't know. He really didn't know and somehow he feared what would come out of this. Was he really meant to find some peace and comfort one day?

Surely not!

And he better did not indulge in false hopes!

Taking ink and quill from his trunk he placed it at his desk, ignoring his wand that Snape had placed at his nightstand, and then he rummaged for his school clothes which he would be wearing, the shirts and trousers, and his cloaks. His cousin's cast offs he left in his trunk, at least the t-shirts and trousers. The socks and the underwear, he was forced to wear and went into the farthest corner of the cupboard where he had placed his school clothes in, most of them disgusting pieces with holes and too large for him anyway. But he didn't have any other underwear and he didn't know a spell that at least could shrink them.

The invisibility cloak he kept in his trunk. He didn't need this one often enough to take it out anyway.

"I suggest we go through your clothes so that I know what exactly we have to replace." Snape's voice came from the doorway and he nearly jumped a foot into the air before turning and looking up at the man.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Knowing that the boy would not like his suggestion the Potions Master forced his face into an indifferent mask, but he had seen some of the boy's clothes when he had summoned everything at number four to place it in the boy's trunk before shrinking and pocketing it and they were – atrocious at the best, like the clothes the boy ghost had worn when he had come back to Hogwarts on September the first this year.

"This won't be necessary, sir, thank you." The boy said, looking down at himself and for a moment the nearly translucent boy got translucent at all and he frowned, until the boy looked up at him again and the ghost was back to being a sort of half-ghostlike. "They're just a bit worn, it's no problem."

"They are not just – _worn_, you idiot child!" He growled, scowling at the boy. "You even have to wear a _string_ to keep your underwear, not to mention your trousers, from falling down seeing that this whale of a cousin you have is ten times too big while you are ten times too small and skinny for your age. And yes – I do know what your clothes look like seeing that I have seen them in the infirmary – and at your relatives' house when I summoned your belongings."

"No!" The boy nearly shouted with horror clearly visible on his face. "You haven't! And there isn't anything to look at anyway! And it's just … it's embarrassing and you wouldn't want to look at them anyway!"

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_bloody, blasted boy  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

47 Points - Slytherin

25 Points - Ravenclaw

19 Points - Gryffindor

26 Points - Hufflepuff


	25. bloody, blasted boy

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

January, 24th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"They're just a bit worn, it's no problem."_

_"They are not just – worn, you idiot child!" He growled, scowling at the boy. "You even have to wear a string to keep your underwear and trousers from falling down seeing that this whale of a cousin you have is ten times too big while you are ten times too small and skinny for your age. And yes – I do know what your clothes look like seeing that I have seen them in the infirmary – and at your relatives' house when I summoned your belongings."_

_"No!" The boy nearly shouted with horror clearly visible on his face. "You haven't! And there isn't anything to look at anyway! And it's just … it's embarrassing and you wouldn't want to look at them anyway!"_

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter twenty-five **

**Bloody, blasted boy**

"Would you do me the favour and calm down please, Mr. Snape?" He said, scowling while sensing another panic attack. Well, they had not had one today so far and so – of course it would come sooner or later, or rather sooner than later, as it seemed. "I simply suggest that we will exchange anything that is still in this trunk at the present time."

"What …?" The boy asked, shocked. "But … but I don't even know if I will have access to Harry Potter's vault at Gringotts anymore!" The boy said, gasped and his, Snape's, frown deepened.

"First, seeing that you _are_ Harry Potter in one way or another, you of course will have access to your vault still." He said. "And second, there won't be need to take anything from your vault for this. I _do_ get a salary for teaching and being not only the head of a house but the resident Potions Master here at Hogwarts after all. I will be capable of providing you with what you need."

"But … you don't have to!" The boy still gasped at him. "I mean, you shouldn't have to and you surely … you see, I can get them myself, I'll find a way to get …"

"I take it that you have had to provide for yourself in the past." He growled. "But that will not continue, neither here nor with me. I am your father and I am not only _bound_ to provide you with what you need, but I also do _intend_ on providing my own son with what he needs – and seeing that it is you who is my son – I am sure this vacant mind of yours will be able figuring out the meaning of my implications."

"But that's too much!" The boy still fought over the subject and suddenly he could see himself in the brat, being unwilling of taking something from someone else. "And it's too much money too! You can't … I'm not worth of …"

"Mr. Snape, _I _will decide how I spend _my_ money and _I_ will decide what things you are worthy of. Do not question my judgment on such matters." He growled. Really, the nerve of the boy!

"Yes sir, 'm sorry, sir, but it's just that I don't think I should take it unless I earn it." Harry quietly said after he had calmed down. He didn't however say what was clearly written over the pale face – namely that he never would be worthy of such, never mind what he did to earn it.

"Mr. Potter you are not a house elf and you need not prove your self worth to me. Not to mention that you already have helped with preparing and restocking supplies for the potions laboratory. And I will say it one last time – you are my son and even if you might not be used to such standards, but as your father it is my duty to provide you with anything you might need and that starts at food and goes over a room, a bed, clothes, your school supplies and even such things as books and games for enjoyment and pocket money in one form or another. Now, do I make myself clear?" Snape said hoping to be done with this subject and get on their way.

"Yes sir, but I really …"

Snape suddenly cut him off as he said harshly, "Mr. Potter one more word on this subject and you will be doing detention for the next month! Added to those you already do serve with me on a daily basis for refusing to speak to me about what has been happening at your relatives' house." Snape was losing his patience with the blasted boy – while he at the same time pulled the small and trembling figure close.

Harry quickly nodded.

"Yes sir, sorry, sir." The brat said with a small voice while leaning into his touch, leaning his head against his chest and he took a deep breath to calm not only his annoyance but his nerves as well.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He did not intend on keeping the bloody boy from the great hall for all his meals and so he had made it clear to Harry that he expected him to eat at least a bit during dinner at the hall together with the other students, had made clear that he would watch the boy during dinner. The boy needed to be in contact with his classmates or he would become unsocial and a misanthrope, and surely one misanthrope here at Hogwarts at the present time was enough, there was no need for another one.

Of course he watched the boy from the head table, watched him sitting at the Gryffindor table and he watched his friends' reactions as well, Longbottom seemingly the only one who really acted carefree around Harry while Granger looked at him in a nearly scared way and Weasley even scooted away again from the boy, like he'd done just before the welcoming feast and during every dinner so far Harry had spend in the great hall. And still – he knew that it was important that the boy was not kept from other humen completely.

If just he would find a way to get the boy to going back into his own body.

His son's actual body got weaker and weaker by the day and he didn't know how to keep it alive for much longer. Of course Poppy had put him into a deep sleep, deeper than the boy simply being unconscious and she provided him with nutrient potions, but that didn't keep him from getting weaker and weaker as there was no real food for his already dangerously thin body and as there was no real rest for his already dangerously weak body either. He too provided the boy with potions to the best of his abilities to keep him alive, but it wasn't enough.

On the other hand he could understand his son's ghost form as well.

There only were pain and fear and misery if he went back to his body, he knew that – as well as did Harry. But what if the boy's body died? What if the boy's body stopped breathing for good, if his heart stopped beating for good? What if his ever persistent knock on death's door was heard finally? Was answered? What would become of his ghost then? What would become of the boy that currently was living in the chamber behind his office? What would become of the boy he had learned to – shocked for a moment he realized that – he actually _liked_ that blasted brat! Merlin! How could he ever … how could he ever get Harry the ghost back into Harry the body – or find any other solution to keep his son alive?

Bloody boy!

Blasted bloody boy!

Why couldn't he just –

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Finishing his plate he quickly stood and then swiftly turned and made his way out of the great hall, his black robes billowing behind him. He always had preferred to get out of that crowded place as soon as possible since he already had to be around the students for almost 24 hours a day anyway and to begin with. It was enough being present for the much too long time during meals to make sure that the students behaved.

'_And now I have to live with one of them!'_ He thought to himself, instantly becoming aware of another presence that was following him close behind and without missing a step he stopped in his tracks, turned to face who ever was stupid enough stalking him, his scowl deepening when he saw that it was the boy had been thinking about just moments ago.

"Is there a reason for you following me like a lost puppy?" He asked with his deep rich voice, angrily over the fact that he himself was worrying so much, over the fact that he had started liking that blasted brat, wondering again how he could have felt the boy's presence since he was a – _ghost_.

"Uhm … well … it's just that …"

"Let me guess, you do not want others knowing about your relationship with me – not to mention your current living arrangement, am I correct?"

"What? No, sir." The boy whispered, averting his eyes. "I'm sorry, sir … it's just that … I didn't want to be alone in the great hall and …"

"And yet I thought you for once had used your brain." The Potions Master sighed. "It actually _would_ be best to keep our current situation under secrecy, at least for the time being." Again he turned and continued walking down the corridor that led to the staircase down to the dungeons.

"Are you coming or not?" He asked without turning back, leading the boy down the wide but narrow staircase and then along the dungeons corridor that led to his office. He knew that he was being unfair, but for once – he couldn't help himself. He simply was angry at the boy ghost for refusing to go back into his body, leaving his body to die sooner than later, he feared. And he was angry at himself for being affected by that, for having started to like that brat!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry on the other hand warily trailed behind his father, walked down the stairs, along the corridors, through the office and then to the room he'd been given, keeping his eyes out for Snape. The mood his father was in reminded him of uncle Vernon before he began beating him for no good reason at all and he shuddered at the thought of last time, that had caused three broken ribs, a broken arm, a broken wrist and a broken ankle, a black eye and a split lip. Not to mention his back that Snape said was still not right somehow. Of course he had still been forced to do his chores in the beginning and of course he hadn't been able to do them – and of course that had meant another beating from his uncle, with the cane mostly, with uncle Vernon's belt sometimes, and even with his feet sometimes.

It had been the one beating before the night when he had left his body to sit beside it and stare at it in pure shock, not knowing what had happened and why and what would happen now. Closing his eyes he forced those thoughts away and as soon as he was back in his room he closed the door and let out a breath of relief. Shaking in relief even he sat down into the armchair, and put away his now dry charms homework to begin his essay for transfiguration. He didn't stop until he finished the required length, adding just a little bit more than necessary.

His body still was shaking after that but his eyes barely were able to remain open when he finally placed the quill aside. His heart however was still beating too fast even an hour and a half after the Potions Master's moody appearance to sleep even if he had wished doing just that, but then he sighed. He knew that Snape was right – he was weak still, and he was exhausted, he would have to at least try sleeping if he wanted to handle classes tomorrow.

Nightly rituals done he slipped into the bed after turning the light off,hoping that eventually the fear woul wear off.

His Professor's and father's snarl for no good reason had wound him up like a bomb waiting to go off, and even right now he was waiting for Snape to come into the room and to take his frustrations out on him, it was all he ever had known so far and so he didn't expect any less.

Wide green eyes were staring transfixed at the door, the clock was ticking away time constantly, a loud irritating noise while the hours went by, and before long it was nearly midnight – but Harry was still tense like a bow.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_do you feel better  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

55 Points - Slytherin

27 Points - Ravenclaw

22 Points - Gryffindor

29 Points - Hufflepuff


	26. do you feel better?

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

January, 26th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Important:**

I have been asked about the house cup … you can enter the house cup at any time you wish and you can leave at any time you wish … any review you give with your house added will provide your house a point and you will have to add your name in any review you give, because I won't be able remembering all your houses, seeign that a cullender is waterproof if compared to my brain … you also will have to take the choice between one house or another, as I can't give away two points to some people, it would be unfair … thanks …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Nightly rituals done he slipped into the bed after turning the light off and eventually the fear wore off Harry. _

_His Professor's and father's snarl for no good reason had wound him up like a bomb waiting to go off, and even right now he was waiting for Snape coming into the room and taking his frustrations out on him, it was all he ever had known so far and so he didn't expect any less. _

_Wide green eyes were staring transfixed at the door, the clock was ticking away time constantly, a loud irritating noise while the hours went by, and before long it was nearly midnight – but Harry was still tense like a bow._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter twenty-six **

**Do you feel better?**

It was again in the middle of the night that Harry woke up while muffling his screams and shouts into the pillow, his heart pounding in his chest while fear froze him on the spot, and terrified that he might have woken Snape up he listened intently for at least ten minutes before he allowed his body to relax. So, he mustn't have been shouting much if his father hadn't heard, or the chamber behind the man's office was farther away from the man's actual quarters, thank Merlin for that – but how had he heard him the night before then? And the first night? Surely the Potions Master hadn't been sitting in his office and grading papers in the middle of the night still?

Looking at the clock he could see it was only three o'clock in the morning, and yet - it was the longest he had ever managed to sleep in one go before waking up, especially after going to sleep so early. He also knew that he wouldn't be able going back to sleep again and so he took a book from his shelf, parchment and ink and put on the lamp, hoping that Snape wouldn't see and come in, and then he started on his potions essay, knowing that it would drive him mad to try and go back to sleep again anyway.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Severus Snape at the same time was turning in his own bed, fighting off his own demons and with a gasp of his own he sat upright in bed at nearly the same time Harry was sitting in his own bed, waiting for his father to angrily storm into the chamber because he had woken him, and he took a few deep breathes to calm his nerves and to get rid of the remnants of his nightmare.

There had been Harry in his nightmare, looking up at him accusingly, and there had been he, Snape, telling the boy in an unmistakable drawl that he for once should use his brain instead of acting all emotional. Then there was Lily who reprimanded him, who told him that he should be more patient with the boy and then again there was little Harry, the barely one year old toddler, crawling towards him, the small head bobbing up and down wildly and then reaching his small, little hands and arms up to him, smiling and squealing in delight at having reached him, now clearly wanting to be picked up – and yet, he refused the small toddler, his own son, the small face getting sad and not understanding.

"Daddy?" The small child had asked in a small and trembling voice, the small arms slowly going down, and this had been what had woken him.

Now he was glad that he had woken up by then though, because he didn't know if he would have finally picked the child up from the floor or if he would have gone away, would have let him there, crying and not understanding why his father refused him.

Of course his memories had come back more and more over the past few days and so of course he knew that such a thing never had happened, he knew that he always had picked up baby Harry if the boy just _started_ to lift his little arms at him. But he knew that he had treated the eleven year old Harry, his eleven year old son, like crap. And that it was what gnawed on his consciousness.

Together with the knowledge that a small, little and abused Harry surely had been laying in his cupboard, crying for not only his mother but for him, his father as well, for him, Severus Snape, to come and get him out of there, to get him home, surely not understanding why neither his mother nor his father came to take him home, not understanding why they weren't there to ease his pain, his emotional pain as well as his physical pain.

And then his words today!

He never had been actually planning on making Harry Potter actually miserable, not even last year – but whenever he had seen the boy, had had him in his class – he hadn't been able to control his temper around that boy. His temper – it was the one thing he couldn't control easily, never mind his occlumency shields, and he knew that it was something he had inherited from his own horrible father – it was his biggest shame, his temper, it was his one weakness he did things when he got angry which he regretted later.

And this evening, after dinner, he simply had been angry at the boy for refusing to go back into his body, for gambling with his own life like that – even if he could understand – and he for a moment hadn't known how to deal with all of this.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

A soft tingling got him out of his thoughts and he took a moment to realize what the soft tingling meant, but then he quickly threw the covers away and slipped into his night robe.

Another nightmare.

If only the boy would finally talk about what had happened with the Dursleys, he thought while hurrying through his quarters and into his office. Of course the boy had nightmares if he didn't allow himself to deal with all that had happened – with having been abused for nearly all his life, with being dead, practically, with having been killed actually.

Opening the door to the chamber behind his office he took a deep breath and forced himself to stay calm and collected instead of rushing forwards to the small body that was rocking back and forth on the bed, again wondering how someone could damage a child so much that it was in so much emotional pain.

Gently he placed his hand onto the boy's shoulder, not sure if he would be able touching the child.

"Harry?" He asked. It still was strange to him, using the boy's given name. For years he had thought of Lily's child as "Potter" and last year the boy had been "Potter" too. While in truth he was a Snape. But he didn't dare addressing the boy as "Mr. Snape" yet, not knowing if the boy would be content with this. He had done so during the past few days, every now and then, while not knowing how to address the boy at all, but – he simply was unsure.

He gently pulled the boy closer when there was no answer, stopping the rocking motion and for a moment he had to tighten his grip on the thin shoulders, the ghost apparently intending to increase his rocking instead of ceasing it and relaxing in his arms, as if he felt imprisoned by being kept from his back and forth rocking.

"Calm down, Harry." He gently said while holding the boy against his chest to stop him, his other hand traitorously reaching over to card through his son's mop of black hair. "You are not alone, child. And you never again will be alone either. I am quite here, trust me."

It took him a while, but then he had the boy calm again, the small and ghost-like form taking a deep breath in his arms.

"Do you feel better?" He then asked.

"Wouldn' care an'way." The boy murmured, still sobbing. "No'ne cares. 'N y'hate me an'way."

He couldn't help flinching at the boy's accusation, knowing that the boy was right after all, that he had hated him or at least had disliked him for a long time, and he pulled the child's head closer to his chest. He forced himself to relax and he couldn't help feeling that his next words cost him more than any words ever had cost him.

"I do care. I do care to know how you feel." He said. "I do care to know about your past and I do care to know _you_."

The boy however only shrugged against his chest.

"Let's start with – do you feel better?" He asked, looking down at the boy, trying to see the pale face and knowing that he had to take the lead and that he had to guide the boy slowly.

"Better?" The ghost in his arms asked, turning so that he was leaning with his back against his chest and he could feel the boy getting upset.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry didn't know how he felt. He felt better, yes, but he wasn't sure if he actually was _alright_, not exactly. He knew that he felt better than he had felt earlier, during the summer, at the Dursleys', but could he dare saying it aloud? Wouldn't it be taken away from him if he dared saying it aloud? Everything ever had been taken away from him if he had dared saying aloud that he liked it or that he felt good. Wouldn't it be the same with this now?

"Dunno." He murmured, shrugging again and having to fight with his tears. "Better?" He then asked, his voice sounding tired and empty. "I think I feel weak and used and rejected and useless and … and filthy and … and anything but not clean and definitely not good."

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_I know what you have done  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

55 Points - Slytherin

27 Points - Ravenclaw

25 Points - Gryffindor

37 Points - Hufflepuff


	27. I know what you have done

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

January, 28th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Harry didn't know how he felt. He felt better, yes, but he wasn't sure if he actually was alright, not exactly. He knew that he felt better than he had felt earlier, during the summer, at the Dursleys', but could he dare saying it aloud? Wouldn't it be taken away from him if he dared saying it aloud? Everything ever had been taken away from him if he had dared saying aloud that he liked it or that he felt good. Wouldn't it be the same with this now?_

_"Dunno." He murmured, shrugging again and having to fight with his tears. "Better?" He then asked, his voice sounding tired and empty. "I think I feel weak and used and rejected and useless and … and filthy and … and anything but not clean and definitely not good."_

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter twenty-seven **

**I know what you have done**

He had been startled.

He had been absolutely startled at the boy's words and in this very moment he had known that most likely he never would be able to heal all the emotional scars his son suffered from.

If the boy had told him that he simply would feel tired and weak, or rejected and useless – it would have been bad still and it would have meant a lot work to change how the boy felt, manageable work, but the words that the boy had spoken, they had startled him, the words he had spoken that he felt – _filthy_, that he didn't feel _clean_, those words really startled him more than he dared to admit, they frightened him – because he knew the reasons as to why someone would feel unclean or filthy and he feared what might be the reason so that his _son_ felt this way.

Of course there was the fact that he had found the boy filthy and unwashed since surely many days, most likely weeks, the many injuries littering the small body already infected, but he couldn't be sure that the boy only meant _this_. He had not asked the boy, and he would not do so anytime soon, not before the child was stable a bit anyway, but he knew that it could be a possibility – and he didn't like it, not a bit.

He would cast a more defined diagnostic and he would try to find out more, but he knew that one day he would have to ask his son anyway – not something he was looking forward to. But then – he was not only a teacher and he was not only a spy – he was the head of a house and he was the head of Slytherin, of the one house that held the most abused children at Hogwarts. And so he knew that not only he _could_ deal with it, but that he also would _not_ step away from the question that was needed.

But before that – he would have to give the boy a stable and basic environment. One that was not in a chamber behind his office and one that was not a meal in the great hall during which he was shunned, one that was not ragged clothes and one that was not based on fear.

He had worked towards this goal during the past few days and today he had gotten the official papers from the ministry of magic, from child welfare – he could re-claim his own son, he was allowed to rename him, he was allowed to resort him even, and he definitely was allowed to keep him in his quarters for the time being.

He of course would try to get him used to his new dormitory one day – but first he would keep him safe in his own quarters until the boy had learned that he was at home there, that he could feel safe there and that he was welcomed there. Anything else – it would have time.

In other words – it was time to face one headmaster and he knew that he would have to do this carefully if he wanted to convict the blasted old man. Not that he cared about what Dumbledore would admit and what not, he knew what the man had done anyway, but he wanted to hear it from him.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

And so he right now was knocking onto the wooden door that was the entrance to the headmaster's office and then entered after the quiet "come in, Severus" that came from the other side of the door.

He rarely took a seat in one of the comfortable armchairs when he was angry, preferred standing so that he could move, preferred approaching the windows to look down into Hogwarts' grounds, so that he did not have to face the old meddling coot – but he did take a seat now – to set the headmaster at ease until he was ready to strike.

"What is it I can do for you, Severus?" The headmaster asked, smiling at him. "Lemon drop? Tea maybe?"

"I do thank you, but no." He answered. "A cup of tea however would not be remiss."

The headmaster flicked his wand and a moment later there was a cup of tea in front of the Potions Master. He leaned forwards, slightly, taking the cup and he sniffed at the hot drink for another moment before taking a sip – just to make sure that the old wizard had not tampered with the tea. He wasn't a Potions Master for nothing after all.

"How is young Harry doing, Severus?" The old man then asked, leaning back and watching him over his half moon spectacles, most likely thinking that he would grate on his nerves with his question, that he would hit a sore spot – well, he did, actually, but not in the way the headmaster thought. "You have taken him to the guest quarters in the dungeons if I am correct, haven't you?"

"Indeed." He drawled for a moment, before getting his face into an indifferent mask again. "Harry …" He then softly said. "I do not know why I felt such a strange hatred towards him."

"You felt?" The old man leaned closer, curiously. "Does that mean that you don't hate him anymore?"

"No, I do not." He honestly answered. "I cannot hate him anymore, I however do not know the reason for that change."

Here! Take that, you old and meddling fool! And fall for it!

There was a sound of a teacup clinking softly when Dumbledore put it back down on its plate.

"I do think, I can answer your question." The old headmaster then said and the Potions Master narrowed his eyes at the man.

"Which question?" He then asked, his voice sounding indifferently.

"Why you would feel differently towards Harry now." The headmaster said.

"And that would be – why?" He asked, lifting his eyebrow at the old man and being very interested in the coot's answer.

"Well, you have seen that Harry really was not the spoiled prince and that you have wronged him so horribly – you simply feel bad about it now. Admit it, Severus, even you have a conscience."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"_You_ dare speaking of a conscience, Albus?" He asked, his eyes blazing coldly and he got off the armchair and went over to his favourite spot in the headmaster's office – to the window where he turned to face the old man, his back on the window without even looking down into the grounds once. "You actually dare speaking of a conscience, Albus? While you have robbed not only my wife but my son as well? While you have caused my wife's death by placing her with an imbecile like Potter who had not been able keeping her safe? While you have placed my son by Lily's abusive sister and her just the more abusive husband who has killed the boy?"

"Severus?" The headmaster asked, blanching considerably.

"I do know what you have done, headmaster." He then drawled. "I have gotten my memories back the longer I have been in my son's presence lately and no, there will be no need to tamper with my mind again, seeing that I already have contacted child welfare and seeing that I already have reclaimed Harry Potter as my son. I soon will re-name the boy into Snape again and I also will resort him into Slytherin, seeing that he is not welcomed in his own house where he is shunned into sitting alone and being stared at in the great hall during meals. On his own house table and by his own house mates even. And after I have my son safe with me in my quarters and in my house, I will make sure that you are faced with an inquiry."

"Surely you will not go such lengths, Severus." The headmaster said, leaning back in his armchair, his pale face worried but calm again.

"Why ever not, Dumbledore?" He asked, seething at the man. "Give me one single reason as to why I should not! You have not only betrayed Lily and me, but Harry as well and you have cost not only Lily's life but Harry's as well. You have caused their lives and you are responsible for their deaths. So give me one single reason as to why I should not go such lengths, Dumbledore."

"Harry is not dead yet." The headmaster said and the Potions Master growled deeply.

"The boy is a _ghost_, Dumbledore." He hissed, leaning his hands onto the desktop of the man's desk. "His actual body is only inches away from death, knocking at deaths door vehemently and loudly demanding entrance while his spirit has already left his body, refusing to go back because of fear of only more torture, pain and horror. In other words – he is dead, headmaster! His body might be still breathing and his heart might be still beating, but he practically is dead and his lungs as well as his heart will stop working soon without his ghost – that refuses to go back."

"So – what would you want me doing, Severus?" The headmaster asked him, his voice cold and harsh suddenly and Severus knew that this was his true mask.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"There is nothing I possibly could want from you, except of – leave! Harry! Alone!" He then growled in his most threateningly tone. "You won't speak to my son without my permission, you won't ask anything of him, you won't come near him and you surely won't touch him, you won't have any say over my son and you won't even _look_ at my son without my permission."

"As you wish, Severus." The headmaster said and the Potions Master straightened.

"That will be Professor Snape for you in future, headmaster." He drawled before turning with a snap of his robes and leaving the office of a man he had considered a friend and mentor for many years. The betrayal of this man now hurt just the more, but he would not allow this pain to rule over him – he had a son who needed him now, he had a son who needed his care and his guidance so he could survive in the first place.

And the first thing he would do was – taking Harry to his new room in his quarters and making sure that the boy knew – he was not only welcomed, but he was wanted.

And so he entered his office after he had hurried along the corridors in a rush, scowling at anyone who dared crossing his ways in the corridors down to the dungeons.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_a chamber within  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

57 Points - Slytherin

30 Points - Ravenclaw

27 Points - Gryffindor

40 Points - Hufflepuff


	28. a chamber within

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

January, 30th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"That will be Professor Snape for you in future, headmaster." He drawled before turning with a snap of his robes and leaving the office of a man he had considered a friend and mentor for many years. The betrayal of this man now hurt just the more, but he would not allow this pain to rule over him – he had a son who needed him now, he had a son who needed his care and his guidance so he could survive in the first place. _

_And the first thing he would do was – taking Harry to his new room in his quarters and making sure that the boy knew – he was not only welcomed, but he was wanted. _

_And so he entered his office after he had hurried along the corridors in a rush, scowling at anyone who dared crossing his ways in the corridors down to the dungeons. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter twenty-eight **

**A chamber within**

The day had gone exceptionally good, he had to admit that. Harry had been very quiet this morning, but that had to be expected after the breakdown he'd had the night before, but otherwise there hadn't been any troubles with the Gryffindors nor with any other student. He'd had the seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins first in the morning and after that the seventh year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, both classes that were in their NEWT years and therefore were not only small classes but students that actually wanted to learn. They also were not only easy to handle due to them being seventeen already but they also were rather adapt at potions seeing that he only allowed students with an outstanding in his NEWT curse.

After lunch he'd had the sixth years Ravenclaws and Slytherins as there were no Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors in this year who had managed getting an outstanding in potions, and therefore this was a very easy class. Yes, the Fridays were one of his better days, he had to admit that, thinking of other days where he had the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins – or the second years.

"Good evening, sir." Harry quietly said upon entering his office – for yet another _'detention'_ – and just before he closed the door behind him, getting him out of his musings.

He said nothing, but got off his chair, inclining his head towards the boy shortly and then he led the boy to the bookshelf that stood close to the fireplace. He waved his wand and the bookshelf transfigured into a door the boy surely never had seen before. Still wordlessly he placed his palm onto the door and then waved the boy over.

"Place your hand beside mine." He calmly said while he inwardly feared that it wouldn't work, seeing that the boy was a ghost practically. Could one add a ghost into his wards?

Ignoring his fears for now he whispered some complicated words in Latin and a moment later he breathed a sigh of relief when there was a slightly green sheen emanating from the door, going over to the boy and enfolding the ghost figure with the green sheen for a moment too, indicating that yes, the charm had worked and Harry was now keyed to the wards, ghost or not, the boy would have access to his quarters now.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The older man's silence was beginning to grate on Harry's nerves and he rubbed his wet palms against his trousers, wondering how his palms could get so wet to begin with – he was a ghost after all, for Merlin's sake! He wasn't meant to get wet palms with nerves! Well, his palms stayed dry for a couple of seconds before becoming damp again and he sighed in frustration.

The door the Potions Master opened creaked and then Snape directed him inside – and he gasped.

Harry felt a surge of magic wash over him as wards erected themselves, but that had not been the reason for his gasp, even if he had to admit that – the magic he felt was the most strong and powerful kind of magic he ever had felt. But well – over the past few days, he had witnessed firsthand his father's paranoia and high regard for safety and had nothing to comment about the tight security. For a spy like Snape, safety was both a necessity and an obsession.

But no, it rather was – the parlour they now entered was – so unlike Snape, he barely could breathe for a moment. There was a dark wooden table in one corner of the large room, surrounded by six chairs made of the same dark wood, a matching sideboard and a shelf filled with books.

In another corner there was a light brown smaller table that was surrounded by a comfortable looking sofa and two armchairs while again a matching sideboard was placed on that wall and a light brown shelf filled with books stood near the fireplace.

In the dining area there was a dark brown rug and a mirror framed by dark wood while in the – living area – there was a light brown rug and a mirror that was framed by light brown wood, facing the other mirror in the dining area and therefore the already large room seemed even larger with the visual trick. There also were light brown pillows and comforters on both armchairs and the sofa.

It not only looked not dungeon-like, but it especially did not look _Snape_-like but rather very, _very_ comfortable.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Snape caught the stunned and confused expression on his son's face and he couldn't help smirking for a moment when he led the boy towards the living-room area.

"These are my quarters at Hogwarts, Harry." He quietly and calmly said, suddenly feeling more at home than he ever had felt here, suddenly feeling – _knowing_, that this boy, his son, belonged here with him. "Only those I have given permission are able and see this door." He explained and gestured at the closed door behind them through which they had come in. "And only those who know the password or are keyed to the wards like you are now, may enter."

"'K." The boy said, apparently lost for words and he decided to – for once – not comment on it but pointed at another door that was made of dark brown wood.

"This door leads to the bathroom and the next one to my private chamber." He then explained. "I expect you to regard my privacy by not entering my private chamber except there is an emergency. The door opposite the dining area leads to the kitchen from where you will find a door that leads to my private laboratory and storage. You are not allowed in there as I do work on potential dangerous potions there that could kill you by simply breathing in the fumes. The other door in the dining area is the one we have entered through and therefore leading to my office."

He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder upon arriving beside the sofa in the living-room area and then turned the boy towards another door.

"And this door – leads to your room." He then said, giving the boy a small shove to get him walking towards said door. The boy took a step towards the door and then stopped, turning and looking up at him, unsurely, questioningly. The Potions Master extended his hand, gesturing that he should go on and open the door.

The boy took another step and then even placed his nearly translucent hand onto the door handle – before looking back at him again, unsurely and questioningly.

"Despite you are being a ghost – without opening the door you won't be able to enter." He said, lifting an eyebrow at the boy who blushed and then actually took a deep breath and opened the door, slowly, carefully looking inside as if he were doing something forbidden – and considering that the child had been living in a cupboard for the past eleven years, it was only understandable that he indeed feared he might be doing something that was forbidden to him.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Carefully Harry opened the door, unsure if he really was allowed to or if Snape would – but no, Snape was his father, not his uncle, and surely the man wouldn't do what his uncle had done? Carefully he took a step inside after looking back at the black clad older wizard and after the potions professor had nodded at him reassuringly – _again_.

It was a bit smaller than Dudley's room had been, but still very big for Harry's taste, bigger than the room he'd been in behind Snape's office where he had been during the past three days. And definitely ten times bigger than his cupboard had been, _twenty_ times bigger even, he didn't know! It _looked_ as if it were _hundred_ times bigger!

Like in the other room there was a very large window that showed the Quidditch pitch and the mountains far in the north directly opposite of the door. On the wall to his left there was a big bed that was equipped with pillows and a soft looking comforter. Beneath the window was a desk with an armchair and to the right of the window were some shelves on the wall which were ending in some kind of a cupboard that was large enough so that he was sure – he didn't even have enough clothes to fill one single drawer of it with them.

On the other wall, beside the door, there was a wall unit for only Merlin knew what and he wasn't sure what he should use it for. This room simply was far too big for him!

Near his bed stood his trunk and it was still closed, most likely his things in there again, after he'd had unpacked them in the other room and only his wand was laying on his nightstand again already, he noticed upon a quick look he dared.

So – this here was his room? _His_ personal room? A room that belonged to _him_? What was he supposed to do with it? It was too large for him! He liked it, it was great, everything held in light brown colours, even with a soft and thick rug that was light brown either, he really _loved_ it – but it was too large for him!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_with or without your consent  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

60 Points - Slytherin

32 Points - Ravenclaw

29 Points - Gryffindor

49 Points - Hufflepuff


	29. with or without your consent

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

February, 2nd 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Like in the other room there was a very large window that showed the Quidditch pitch and the mountains far in the north directly opposite of the door. On the wall to his left there was a big bed that was equipped with pillows and a softly looking comforter. Beneath the window was a desk with an armchair and to the right of the window were some shelves on the wall which were ending in some kind of a cupboard that was large enough so that he was sure – he didn't even have enough clothes to fill one single drawer of it with them. _

_On the other wall, beside the door, there was a wall unit for only Merlin knew what and he wasn't sure what he should use it for. This room simply was far too big for him! _

_Near his bed stood his trunk and it was still closed, most likely his things in there again, after he'd had unpacked them in the other room and only his wand was laying on his nightstand again already, he noticed upon a quick look he dared._

_So – this here was his room? His personal room? A room that belonged to him? What was he supposed to do with it? It was too large for him! He liked it, it was great, everything held in light brown colours, even with a soft and thick rug that was light brown either, he really loved it – but it was too large for him!_

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter twenty-nine **

**With or without your consent**

Of course Snape noticed the scared look on the boy's face that got even more panicky the longer he stood in this room, watching the furniture – and he knew the reason for the boy's panic, he wasn't stupid after all.

"I suggest we have dinner." He said, placing his hand onto the boy's shoulder again, ignoring the flinch and simply leading him out and over to the large dining table, seating him down into one of the chairs and then sat down opposite him. "I think that you may need some time to get used to the idea of having a room for yourself after having grown up in a – _cupboard_ – and yes, I do know about this blasted cupboard I have found your body in having been your room and no, I will not use this information against you. I merely wished you to have a room for once where you may have enough space in. It might be overwhelming at the present time, but you will get used to it with time."

There was no answer from his son except of the boy nodding his head and he hadn't expect one either, knowing that most likely the boy would have trouble voicing anything right now anyway. He soon had learned during the past few days that the boy having kept silent in the past might have been not insolence but a strange disability to form words if needed in particular situations and he also had learned that the boy refusing to look at him had nothing to do with disrespect but with trying to hide from him, trying to hide his shame, or that the boy looking up at him defiantly sometimes had nothing to do with defiance at all, but with trying to keep the last remnants of his dignity at least in front of him, if he were not able keeping them in front of his relatives.

And right now was such a situation, the boy simply being overwhelmed and therefore unable to react like a normal child his age would react upon a room being given.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Waving his wand a plate of sandwiches appeared, a mug of hot chocolate and a bowl with fruits, things he had ordered earlier and that he now had summoned from the kitchen. He would call Zilly over from Snape Manor later in the day or during the weekend, but for now – he guessed it was enough for the boy getting used to their quarters – and his new guardian.

"There is another topic we have to discuss, and soon, Harry." He said, taking one of the sandwiches and ordering a cup of tea, refusing the hot chocolate. "Start eating, there is no need to worry." He added when the boy looked up at him, worried, and he waited until Harry had taken a sandwich himself.

"Well, when your mother and James Potter died, Dumbledore had the Wizengamot appointing him your magical guardian." He then started explaining, noticing with some satisfaction that the boy started to eat. "This was actually against the decrees of wizarding law but was allowed nonetheless because of the influence the headmaster exudes over everyone else and especially the minister of magic. I do remember that Lucius had tried getting guardianship over you, without success however."

A moment later Harry had placed the sandwich onto the plate, looking up at him startled and his pale and nearly translucent face loosing all that could be considered as remaining colour.

"There is no need to be startled, Harry." He said, frowning, and he indicated that the boy should go on eating. He even waited until Harry took the sandwich again and continued eating before he continued his explanation. "Except for the fact that Lucius had been a Death Eater as less as I have been one, I have never understood why he wanted guardianship over you, but now I do understand and I wished he had been successful and not Dumbledore. As a close friend of mine Lucius must have known about you being my son, I am sure about that, and therefore he of course wanted him out of your aunt's clasp as well as out of Dumbledore's clasps – and of course closer to me as the Malfoy head of house is a very close friend of mine. And no, he would not have harmed you, Harry. I however will have a word with him the moment I next meet him as I am very interested in the question as to why he never had told me the truth – even if I have my suspicions and I only can guess that he wanted to keep you safe – and most likely me as well, Dumbledore having threatened him with our safety to keep him silent."

Still the boy said nothing, gave no answer.

He had looked startled at the mentioning of Malfoy, but – he didn't look startled anymore now. He rather looked, as if he understood and he frowned. Surely the boy was not ready to accept such a thing like Malfoy not being a Death Eater so easily. Malfoy was a name that was collocated with Death Eater – like the name Snape, thanks to Dumbledore. The name Albus Dumbledore should be a name feared and frowned upon, seeing that this man had done enough to harm other people, including a small boy, and it had cost that small boy's life. And that man actually was the headmaster of a school filled with children he could harm if no one made sure that he wouldn't be able anymore.

But then – Harry's life had been turned upside down so completely and quickly lately – with dying, becoming a ghost, becoming his son and now living with him – maybe the boy couldn't be shocked anymore. _'Except for getting a room for himself.'_ His annoying small voice in the back of his mind added seriously and he couldn't help agreeing.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Fact is – Dumbledore still had guardianship over you until yesterday afternoon when I got the guardianship papers from the ministry after I demanded that they changed that." He then explained, unsure of how his son would take his next words.

"So …" The boy started and he waited, allowing the boy to speak. "So … that means that … you are my guardian now _officially_, sir?"

"Yes." He simply said, still not sure if the boy being so calm over the subject was a good sign or not.

"Thank you, sir." Came the boy's reply and he nearly gasped.

"Whatever for?" He asked, frowning at the boy while he placed the ministry papers at the table for his son to read. He didn't understand why the boy would thank him for something like that. Harry Bloody Potter _was_ his son after all.

"I didn't know that Dumbledore had guardianship over me." Harry quietly answered. "I wouldn't have minded in the beginning, but he never told me and later … since the thing with the stone last year I didn't trust him anymore."

"How so?" He asked, not really understanding what the child meant, his brows furrowed while he concentrated onto the small ghost.

"Well, he'd given me enough hints throughout the year so that I knew about it, about the mirror and about other things." His son answered. "And he gave me the cloak and he made sure that I went down to safe the stone, that I'd be able to go through the precautions he and the teachers had set. I don't know why though."

But he, Snape, he knew – and inwardly he seethed with barely concealed fury. Dumbledore had placed the stone in the castle to test Harry, to test his obedience and to test his strength and his bravery, to test how many power he already had over the boy – and risking his life in the process as well as the lives of his friends.

"So – you are amenable with me being your guardian?" He asked, barely able of keeping an indifferent mask so the bloody boy wouldn't notice the fear he felt creeping up at the same time as hope.

Harry looked at the papers, scanned the words and then stopped, looked at Severus, and read them again.

The first parchment was a formal exchange of guardianship from Dumbledore to Snape and the second parchment was a formal claim for Harry being Snape's son and only needed his signature to become valid.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"You … you want to claim me for real?" He asked, unsure of how he should feel. "You want to acknowledge me as your son officially?"

"Yes." The professor said and he couldn't help thinking that the older wizard looked nervous suddenly. "I have taken guardianship over you without your consent as I won't have you in Dumbledore's clasps any longer and as I won't have you going back to those muggles ever again and for securing this, I needed guardianship over you – with, or without your consent. But I have not re-claimed you as my son officially yet as I have no intention of doing this without your consent. I do know that I have already done enough damage on you during the past year and I did not wish to force you …"

He wasn't able to finish his reasoning though …

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_it will be the same in any house  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

67 Points - Slytherin

38 Points - Ravenclaw

31 Points - Gryffindor

53 Points - Hufflepuff


	30. it will be the same in any house

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

February, 4th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Added Note:**

Ah – neither … nor – some of you have thought that they are interrupted by a visitor or an attack while others thought that maybe our dear Potions Master might have an armful of a Ghost-Child clinging to him suddenly – it's none of that :D … and I think it funny that this time none of you have guessed correctly …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"You … you want to claim me for real?" He asked, unsure of how he should feel. "You want to acknowledge me as your son officially?"_

_"Yes." The professor said and he couldn't help thinking that the older wizard looked nervous suddenly. "I have taken guardianship over you without your consent as I won't have you in Dumbledore's clasps any longer and as I won't have you going back to those muggles ever again and for securing this, I needed guardianship over you – with, or without your consent. But I have not re-claimed you as my son officially yet as I have no intention of doing this without your consent. I do know that I have already done enough damage on you during the past year and I did not wish to force you …"_

_He wasn't able to finish his reasoning though …_

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter thirty **

**It will be the same in any house**

"Yes, please." The boy said and the Potions Master stopped mid-sentence, his dark eyes piercing the ghost sitting in front of him, a small ghost that was his son. "Yes, please." The boy repeated after a moment in which he had taken a deep breath, the small voice sounding strangely choked. "No one ever really wanted me and no one ever went trough the trouble of going to the ministry to get me and to keep me safe. So yes, I …" There were no more words, a choked sob cutting off any more words and a moment later the boy curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his mid-section like he so often had seen the boy doing – and suddenly he couldn't stand seeing his son in such emotional pain anymore.

Slowly he got off his own chair and went over to the ghost, taking the small and thin form into his arms. He simply lifted the boy off his chair and sat down, positioning the boy on his lap and pulled him close. Why did this feel so right now? Why had never anyone done this for the boy in the past? And it was clear that no one ever had done this for the boy, the child melting in his grip, unable to keep his emotional pain locked away any longer.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there with the ghost child in his arms, his ghost-like son crying silently, only the shaking but otherwise tense shoulders and back giving away his crying and he didn't know what to do with the child. But then – most likely there wasn't _anything_ to do at all, the yougn wizard simply in need of being held, of being allowed to cry for once – and again, he barely could fathom that no one ever had done this for the child. How wrong he had been about this child!

"'M sorry …" The boy murmured after what seemed to be an eternity during which he continuously had stroked his hand over the soft mop of black hair. "I …"

"There is no need to apologize." He quietly said, tightening his grip when the child tried to pull away. "No, you will listen for a moment. You have never been provided with an adult in your life who wanted you, who supported you or who comforted you. The contrary had been the case – you have been neglected, starved and beaten to the point of death even. It is I who has to apologize, not you. Because I have wronged you in more than one way and I am sorry for this. I _do_ want you, I do _care_ about you, and I would like to make it up to you. I do want you in my life."

"You really would want me?" The boy asked, incredulously, pulling away from him again and this time he allowed it, kept the boy sitting on his thighs, small hands he had used to push himself up resting on his shoulders, those green eyes large. "But …"

"I do." He simply said, scowling at the boy. "All I need is for you to approve and sign the papers at the ministry."

There wasn't an answer, but the boy throwing his thin arms around his neck and clinging to him with a near death-grip.

"Is this emotional outburst of yours meant to be taken as your approval?" He finally managed to drawl while at the same time realizing that he didn't sound like he had his heart in the drawl. It was hard to believe that only two weeks or so ago Harry and he had barely been getting along. Now the boy was accepting his request to take him into his family formally.

"Yes, please, sir." The boy repeated, whispered into his ear, loosening his grip on him only slightly. "Yes, please. Wanna have you as my father for real."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"What will happen the moment I go back into my body?"

The Potions Master shot up his head and cast a sharp look over at the boy. They'd had a short dinner, neither the boy nor he being very hungry after the emotional outburst, but he had insisted that the ghost ate a little something at least. Of course he knew that as the ghost he was, he would keep the skinny, skeletal form he now had, his injuries had healed but at least some bruises that refused to vanish had been left too after all, but he nevertheless wanted the boy to eat at least a little, seeing that he'd never before had enough food to begin with. He would make sure that this changed.

So – did this mean that Harry considered going back into his body finally? One quick glance into the child's scared and unsure gaze was enough to know that – no, the boy wasn't ready for that yet, but at least he thought about it.

Well, he knew that they would have to do it again, signing the papers and visiting the ministry when Harry returned into his body, _if_ he ever would return, that was, but for now it would be enough. And of course they would have to deal with more pain and horror the moment he went back into his body, the moment both boys' pain and fears all became one again.

"We of course will have to visit the ministry again then." He said, keeping his other thoughts to himself. He would not startle the boy and he would not pressure him either – at least not until it wasn't absolutely necessary. "But for now this situation is as good as it would be with your body sitting here instead of your ghost."

"You're mad." The boy said and he frowned, placing the cup of tea at the table in front of him.

"No, I am not mad." He said, leaning his lower arms onto the table. "I of course would like you going back into your body as soon as possible as I do not know how much longer your body will be able to survive without you and as I do not know what will become of you without your body being alive still. But I am not mad. I actually do understand your reluctance."

"What will happen now?" The boy then asked and again he could feel the unsureness radiating off his son. The child was not used to being in a family where he was integrated and where he was welcomed and could be happy – and where he was integrated into a daily routine, as the boy's question clearly showed.

"What do you mean – what will happen now?" He asked, leaning back and knowing that right now most likely their first fight would arise. "The first thing to do is for you to explore your room and then go to bed. Tomorrow after your morning classes I will take you to Diagon Alley as you are in desperate need of new clothes and other things. And after that – I do consider resorting you, and preferably into my house, not to mention that we will have to visit the ministry next week on Wednesday."

Like he had thought – the boy looked up at him sharply at the mentioning of a resorting, his green eyes going large.

"But … why would you do such a thing, sir?" The answer came in a startled voice.

"Because I have watched your fellow Gryffindors shunning away from you, or chasing you off because of your ghost form for long enough now." He answered with a scowl on his face. "I will not have this going on for any longer."

"Would be the same in any house." The boy murmured. "They're scared."

"I do not care if they are scared or not, Harry." He growled. "They have no right hurting you in the process and honestly, after a year at living at a school like Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry – they should have gotten used to being around ghosts. Not to mention that you are their friend and one does not turn their back on a friend just because he becomes a ghost. Such a thing simply is not done."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Do you have friends amongst the ghosts?" The boy curiously asked, looking up at him with large eyes and for a moment he couldn't help the corner of his lip twitching upwards at the question. The boy wouldn't have asked such a question of him of all people a week ago, that much was for sure.

"The ghosts at Hogwarts are too old so that I could have known them while they were alive still and so we do not have the same situation here, but yes, I do have friends amongst the ghosts. And before you ask," he added upon the boy already opening his mouth, "one of them is the Bloody Baron whom I consider as a very close friend of mine."

The boy grinned at him broadly for a moment, but then he became serious and nearly sad again.

"It will be the same in any house anyway." He then repeated, shrugging his shoulders.

"It would not be the same in Slytherin." The Potions Master said, scowling. He knew of the animosity between Slytherin and Gryffindor of course and he also could understand the boy's line of thinking of course.

"Would be." The boy scowled back and he lifted his eyebrow at the nearly perfect scowl that seemed to make a miniature Snape of him. "Especially with Slytherin, they'll have their field day."

"They won't – because no Slytherin would ever dare going against their own – and especially not against the son of their head of house."

"So, I only would be safe from them because of you being my da- … father." The boy said, blushing a crimson red and averting his eyes at the near slip of tongue.

"No." He answered, not commenting on the word _'dad'_ the boy ghost nearly had said, but getting off his chair and placing his hand onto his son's shoulder for a moment. "You should know that many children in my house are in a similar position like you, seeing that they are raised by parents that are Death Eaters, and even if none of them turned out dead so far, they do know what it means. Therefore they display the same mask in front of others you have displayed to keep the last remnants of your dignity intact. And therefore they stand up for each other, they stick together. Until now, you only ever have learned to know their mask, as they only ever have learned to know your mask. They will need time – but they will understand. And you as well, I am sure of that – if you just give them a chance."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_how different the world would be without you  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

80 Points - Slytherin

44 Points - Ravenclaw

37 Points - Gryffindor

56 Points - Hufflepuff


	31. how different the world would be without

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

February, 6th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"They won't – because no Slytherin would ever dare going against their own – and especially not against the son of their head of house."_

_"So, I only would be safe from them because of you being my da- … father." The boy said, blushing a crimson red and averting his eyes at the near slip of tongue._

_"No." He answered, not commenting on the word 'dad' the boy ghost nearly had said, but getting off his chair and placing his hand onto his son's shoulder for a moment. "You should know that many children in my house are in a similar position like you, seeing that they are raised by parents that are Death Eaters, and even if none of them turned out dead so far, they do know what it means. Therefore they display the same mask in front of others you have displayed to keep the last remnants of your dignity intact. And therefore they stand up for each other, they stick together. Until now, you only ever have learned to know their mask, as they only ever have learned to know your mask. They will need time – but they will understand. And you as well, I am sure of that – if you just give them a chance."_

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter thirty-one **

**How different the world would be without you**

It had started as an already warm morning and it only had gotten warmer, nearly hot within the hours, the day becoming one of the last really hot late summer days, or autumn days, and the students were outside in t-shirts only without wearing a jacket during their break after their morning classes.

And so – after trying the dungeons, the library and then even the astronomy tower – the Potions Master went outside in search for his son, his eyes easily finding some of the Gryffindor second years and even if he knew that they had not many dealings with the boy ghost lately, he nevertheless marched over to them. They at least might know where the boy kept himself, seeing that they had their classes together with Harry after all and as he had not shown up in their quarters after his morning classes for lunch – most likely to avoid a visit to Diagon Alley this afternoon.

Granger and Weasley were standing together with Finnigan and Thomas, discussing animatedly, Longbottom and the other Gryffindor second year girls not being amongst them.

"I don't think it was such a great idea and I'll tell McGonagall if you won't stop." He heard Granger saying and he frowned. Surely the girl had seen many rule-breaking from her two friends last year and even had partaken in some of them as well – and she never had ran off to Minerva, at least not to his knowledge.

"What?" Weasley asked, startled, looking at her as if he had seen a hippo in a rollercoaster. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"Because what you're doing isn't funny and it isn't fair either." The girl hissed and if he was right in thinking what this was about, then he had to agree with the know-it-all for once.

"What's it with you?" Finnigan asked, shoving Granger away and the Potions Master scowled. A little bully he had here as it seemed. "Keep your nose …"

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"_You_ – better keep your _hands_ – by yourself, Finnigan." He growled at the boy upon coming close enough. "That will be ten points from Gryffindor and if I see you pushing another student once more, then you will find yourself in detention. Miss Granger, come with me."

The girl looked at him scared for a moment, but then she gave a short nod away and he turned, approaching the building before turning sharply and advancing on her.

"Do you happen to know where exactly Mr. – Potter is?" He asked her, ignoring the girl's eyes narrowing at him, He didn't care about it becoming known, seeing that he had taken preparations and no one would be able taking Harry from him now.

"He didn't say anything." The girl said before she averted her eyes, clearly ashamed. "But I've often seen him near the lake lately."

"Hmm." He made, watching her thoughtfully. "How is it, Miss Granger, that you do know about your – _former_ – friend's … whereabouts and that you are defending him against those morons, while you do shun him like your entire house seems to do except for Mr. Longbottom?" He then asked.

"Dunno." The girl said, shrugging her shoulders.

"I am sure that from an intelligent student such as you, I can expect a better answer than the one you have just now given away, Miss Granger." He said, lifting his eyebrow at the girl in his typical Snape-manner. "I really do expect better from you than that."

"It's just … he's a ghost!" The girl then said and his eyebrow went even higher. "It's just … it's gross! How can he be a ghost? I mean, it's … I just don't know!"

"Are you still scared of ghosts after a year you have spent at a wizarding school where ghosts are a normal occurrence?" He couldn't help asking.

"No, not generally." Granger answered and he frowned. "But if one of those ghosts happen to be your friend suddenly – that's just … it's scary."

"Understandable." He growled at the girl. Merlin, he didn't have time for the bloody girl's whims, but for the sake of his son – maybe he could get her to speaking with the boy again. "But do you not think that it might be just as scary for Harry himself? Maybe he would need a friend right now, Miss Granger, think about it." And with those words he sharply turned, walking away, towards the lake, in search of a boy ghost that was his son.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It was not even ten minutes later that he found the boy ghost, sitting on one of the boulders near the lake, looking over the water as if it always had been a dream of him to swim in there. Wordlessly he sat down beside him, looking over the lake as well and noticing the Squid sprawling its arms in large circles through the water.

"Did you love my mum?" The boy suddenly asked, not looking over at him and he immediately turned his head towards the boy, watching him seriously for a moment and realized that there was more on the child's mind than simply trying to avoid a visit to Diagon Alley because he was embarrassed about his clothes and the fact that they had to be replaced because they were shabby and ragged as there never had been someone who had cared about the child. The boy ghost most likely had to sort out his entire life, his past, his place, his future, his parents, his roots, and his magic maybe even.

"Yes, I did love her, Harry." He quietly answered. "I _still_ do love her."

"Even after she'd left you?" The boy asked and he took a deep breath.

"Yes, even after she had left me." He then answered. "For a long time I had not known that it was Dumbledore who stood behind all that, that he had meddled with my memories, that he had taken you from me or that you even have been mine to begin with, Harry. For me, in my memories, Lily, your mother, simply had left me, but yes, I still love her. What is done is done and we cannot change the past."

"But if you never had been with her to begin with, then she'd never left you and you wouldn't have been in pain then because of it." The boy quietly said, following his own childish logic and he nearly smiled at the simple line of thoughts.

"That might be, Harry, but if I never had been with your mother, then you would not be here either." He then answered, frowning. He didn't like the way the boy was thinking. "Your mother would have been with James from the beginning and then there maybe would be a different son of hers, or a daughterof her in your place, but not you as you are distinctly part your mother and part myself."

The boy looked up at him, huffing, and he nearly looked angrily, one thought clearly written over his face – the way his life had been so far he wasn't abject to never having been born.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad, me never being born." He then said, just voicing the thoughts the Potions Master had had a moment ago when looking into his son's pale and nearly translucent face and he felt a pang of sadness at those words. The boy was so miserable he wished he'd never been born? What kind of an existence was that? Severus had definitely always had the wrong view about Harry, and he vowed then to try and get to know who he really was, despite his differences with the pre-teen.

But then – he didn't have such differences with the boy lately, he had to admit that, the ghost form of the boy clearly being much more bearable than the physical form of the boy until now ever had been – or at least last year had been.

"How different the world would be without you, Harry – there is no telling what terror may have reigned upon the wizarding and muggle world alike if you had not inadvertently stopped the Dark Lord as an infant." He quietly said, leaning back against one of the larger boulders and pulling the boy close with him. "Each person, no matter how big or small, no matter how rich or poor or how brave or cowardice, makes a significant impact on the world around them just by simply being here. And you fall into that more so than most. I know for sure that my life would be massively different if you had never been born – and not for the better."

"You wouldn't have been angry at the thought that I'm James Potter's son you had to see each day." The boy whispered.

"Back then, before your mother took you and left, I nearly had a year with you, Harry." He whispered, remembering how he had treated the boy last year. "And this one year has started to shape me, even if I lost you then. And I do have you _now_ again. Do you not think that this might have changed me? That this might be important to me?"

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry nodded slowly, knowing what Snape meant, but not feeling any better about it. Maybe he was being melodramatic, but he'd never really had anyone to talk to about these things before – the Dursleys surely had been the last ideal kind of persons for him to have a heart-to-heart with.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_Never mind what - I do want you  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

90 Points - Slytherin

56 Points - Ravenclaw

38 Points - Gryffindor

61 Points - Hufflepuff


	32. never mind what, I do want you

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

February, 8th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"You wouldn't have been angry at the thought that I'm James Potter's son you had to see each day." The boy whispered._

_"Back then, before your mother took you and left, I nearly had a year with you, Harry." He whispered, remembering how he had treated the boy last year. "And this one year has started to shape me, even if I lost you then. And I do have you now again. Do you not think that this might have changed me? That this might be important to me?"_

_Harry nodded slowly, knowing what Snape meant, but not feeling any better about it. Maybe he was being melodramatic, but he'd never really had anyone to talk to about these things before – the Dursleys surely had been the last ideal kind of persons for him to have a heart-to-heart with._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter thirty-two **

**Never mind what – I do want you**

"Your mother and I, we knew each other much too long and we were just too close, even back then, when we were children still." He softly said, running his fingers through the boy's hair lightly, not even wondering why he did. This boy, ghost or not – he was a product of him and Lily, the only thing Lily had left him. "I simply wasn't able being angry at her after she had left me for Potter. I was angry at Potter, for stealing my wife – or rather the girl I have loved as I did not remember Lily and me having married – but even if I knew that it needed two people for such a thing, that Lily as well could have said no to Potter – I haven't been able to feel anger at her and we still stayed – friends, sort of. We still talked to each other and she still asked me for help every now and then."

"How long _did_ you know her?" The boy asked, turning his head up at him and he lifted his eyebrow at the display of curiosity.

"We have first met when we have been seven years old." He answered, remembering those times when their only worries had been when to meet the next day and where – except of _his_ troubles with his father, but that was another story and didn't belong here. "I first have seen her and her sister on the playground and I have watched her bringing a flower her sister had thrown to the floor and trampled at, back to life. And I have known that she was a witch back then, pouring a little bit of her own life and magic into the dying flower. I have seen my mother doing such things sometimes and so I knew what it had meant."

"Did you tell her?" The boy asked, looking back over the sea.

"Yes." He simply answered, his dark eyes following his son's gaze while he wondered how the boy was feeling about all this.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry instead was thinking about other things, more simpler things that were however just as strange to him as was his entire current life that was strange and strenuous enough at the moment. Instead he was trying to imagine his mother as a seven year old, casting magic and then trying to imagine Snape as a seven year old, telling his mother that she was a witch and that she had just done magic, while his aunt, stood beside them, hearing Snape's words. Did aunt Petunia even remember Snape? Did Snape remember her?

But all that came to his mind was his uncle beating the day living lights out of him for apparating onto the roof at school. The fire engine had had to come to get him down, confused over _how_ a scrawny and little boy like him had been able to climb up there in the first place and they had suggested that uncle Vernon admitted him in a climbing curse of some kind. Well, uncle Vernon had been furious and as soon as they had been home he had stopped playing the nice and overly concerned uncle and had begun beating him furiously with his belt while calling him a freak.

No matter how many times he tried he simply couldn't imagine his mum at the age of seven with Snape of all people telling her that she was a witch while his aunt stood beside them, listening. He only had the picture of his uncle beating him for doing accidental magic in his mind.

"I guess aunt Petunia didn't like this." He murmured, shuddering at the thought and he could feel Snape pulling him closer. Taking a deep breath he leaned against the man's chest and allowed himself to accept the comfort that was given, determined to add this moments to his good memories he was collecting for bad times.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Oh, back then Petunia had not been so against the thought at all." The Potions Master said and Harry looked up at him, sharply, unbelievingly. "She even tried to do magic as well. Unfortunately, you are right – just when Lily got her Hogwarts letter, when it was clear that she would go to Hogwarts while your aunt has not been permitted there, Petunia, being jealous, decided that she did not want to be like Lily anymore. Your mother was deeply upset when your aunt kept calling her a freak."

He couldn't help noticing the flinch Harry gave away at the word_ 'freak'_ and he immediately knew that most likely the boy had been called that same word for his entire life just as well – he should have known. Mental abuse always went along together with physical abuse and neglect – and he had to stop himself from growling angrily.

"And mum's parents?" The boy asked, shifting uncomfortably. "Were they … did they hate mum too? Because she was a witch?"

"There is no need to feel uncomfortable." He reassured. "Neither for asking a question generally nor for asking a question about your family. Your grandparents, Rose and Henry Evans, they were the nicest Muggles I have ever met and they were ecstatic to have a witch in the family. They were undoubtedly proud of your mother." He said, brushing away a strand of his son's hair and feeling the boy's mix of misery and curiosity when his fingertips brushed the pale forehead.

"I have been a visitor in their house rather often, seeing that Lily and I have been so close friends, and so I can tell you that they would have been very happy that you are a wizard." He softly said while tightening his grip on the boy and pulling him even closer. "I am sure that you might be wondering what it would have been like if you had been raised by your grandparents instead of your aunt and uncle, and believe me, Harry, they gladly would have taken you if they had been alive still, and they would have loved you deeply."

"It's just that … they didn't want me …the Dursleys." The boy murmured after a moment, not looking at him but at a point far away over the lake, as though he had forgotten the Potions Master's presence at all, looking off into space and thinking aloud. "If they'd been different … or maybe it _I'd_ been different …"

The older wizard and head of Slytherin narrowed his eyes at this but neither did the boy notice, nor did he interrupt the boy. He had already been surprised that Harry was speaking to him so easily, so openly right now, telling him things he had refused telling him before and gaining detention for it. But then again – when did this particular boy not surprise him? It seemed to be the child's favourite pasttime, pulling the rug under Severus constantly.

"Maybe then they'd have … you know, wanted me, would've been glad to have me, would've loved me and such crap. I tried to very much to do things right, to please them and to do what they wanted, to be a good boy, but they never loved me, never much how much I tried, they never even liked me or wanted me. They didn't like my world and they didn't like me, and I guess I can't even blame them. I guess, first my aunt lost her sister and then Dumbledore dumped me at their house … anytime someone from our world was around them, they … well, I guess you could say it didn't turn out so well for them." He smiled grimly, but the look in his eyes was flat and empty.

Snape did not know what made him angrier – the fact that Lily's sister and her miserable husband had brought his son to this state, or the fact that the boy, on some level, at least, _did_ somehow blame himself for the fact that his relatives did not love or want him.

"I do know that you are far too intelligent, Harry, and therefore you surely know that your uncle's behaviour towards you was both, unacceptable and monstrous, do you not?"

The boy looked up at him briefly, his eyes still flat and empty, not really attentive, not really here in this world, then he looked away again.

"Yes, I know that." He muttered, but his voice sounded as flat and empty as his eyes looked.

"Never mind what, Harry." He softly said. "I do want you."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Know." The boy said, pulling away and getting up. He hesitated for a moment, looking at him and Snape thought from the look on his face that the boy was about to ask him something. Instead, though, he shrugged very slightly, nodded once and walked away toward the castle. Remaining beside the lake, Snape watched him going, thinking, his eyes narrowed at the careful movements the boy ghost took and he immediately knew – it was something the boy had learned throughout the years, walking slowly, moving carefully, his movements and energy measured well to keep as much strength throughout the day and to keep the pain as bearable as possible. The startling thing was – that it was a twelve year old child that already knew such habits.

'_You should have been mine, child, not only for barely a year but for all your life, for my life – you should have been mine! I would have been happy having you! And I would not have abused you, I would not have neglected you, I would have loved you!'_

Startled at that thought he blinked for a moment while looking into the direction his son had gone to, to the castle. Did he really mean that? Except of that one year he'd had with the boy – he had never thought of being a father … his own father had done nothing to inspire him to want to take on that particular job himself.

He had never thought about it before, but now he wondered … assuming he had made other decisions in life? Assuming he had not taken on the job as a spy? Assuming he had gone against Dumbledore and his meddling decisions? Snape would never have been gone on this particular night and Lily and Harry would have been safe with him.

Looking over the lake like the boy had done earlier, he couldn't deny that he had begun to feel the same for the child like he had done back then, a protectiveness that went beyond anything he ever had felt, even towards his Slytherins in general and Draco in particular.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_A Gryffindor – I take it?  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading – and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

101 Points – Slytherin

079 Points – Ravenclaw

041 Points – Gryffindor

067 Points – Hufflepuff

Ravenclaw made a lot of ground, thanks to "ich" … while Slytherin is the first house reaching the three-digit number 100 … well done, you two houses … :) … Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, you need to hurry up – you have ten months left to catch up …


	33. a Gryffindor, I take it?

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 10th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

'_You should have been mine, child, not only for barely a year but for all your life, for my life – you should have been mine! I would have been happy having you! And I would not have abused you, I would not have neglected you, I would have loved you!'_

_Startled at that thought he blinked for a moment while looking into the direction his son had gone to, to the castle. Did he really mean that? Except of that one year he'd had with the boy - he had never thought of being a father … his own father had done nothing to inspire him to want to take on that particular job himself._

_He had never thought about it before, but now he wondered … assuming he had made other decisions in life? Assuming he had not taken on the job as a spy? Assuming he had gone against Dumbledore and his meddling decisions? Snape would never have been gone on this particular night and Lily and Harry would have been safe with him._

_Looking over the lake like the boy had done earlier, he couldn't deny that he had begun to feel the same for the child like he had done back then, a protectiveness that went beyond anything he ever had felt, even towards his Slytherins in general and Draco in particular._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter thirty-three **

**A Gryffindor, I take it?**

"There's a ghost over there, that demands clothes!" He heard the clerk whispering into Gladrag's ear and looking down into Harry's face he could tell that the boy had heard the comment as well, the idiot clerk not whispering very quietly, and he scowled.

He'd been planning on coming here yesterday, but his son had so much to think about, so much to pick up around himself and so much to catch up – they simply had talked after he had finally followed Harry inside half an hour after Harry had left the lake, half an hour during which he had thought through things himself.

It had been more important in his opinion, seeing that the boy had been ready to talk with him at the present time, and honestly – a day sooner or later in getting clothes for Harry, this one day really didn't make a difference as he simply had continued to temporarily shrinking clothes of his own for the boy to wear. It wasn't a big deal.

And so they had come here today – to have people staring and whispering.

It was Diagon Alley, for Merlin's sake, and a street like Diagon Alley was – except for a few exceptions – visited by magical folks only! They should be used to ghosts after all! And yet – they seemed not. They were staring at him as well as at the boy and there were whispers about him, Snape, in the shopping centre of the wizarding world to begin with and with a child on his side no less, with a _ghost_ child even, whispers about the mean Potions Master having killed the child and now being hunted by his ghost, whispers of the poor boy ghost being bound to him, Snape, by magic, having to serve him, and whispers of Harry being a student whom he had been mean to in potions and who must have died because of that, whom he now was responsible for as surely even as a ghost, a child couldn't be alone.

It was unnerving!

It was infuriating!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Taking a deep breath he forced himself to calm down and he placed a calming hand onto his son's shoulder, the boy clearly more than just nervous, the boy was frightened, and he wondered why.

"That's alright, you idiot!" He could hear Gladrag growling at his clerk. "There's no reason to be rude about it! Professor Snape, it's been some time." Gladrag then added while coming towards him. "What can I do for you and …?"

"My son." Snape answered. "We need several complete sets of clothes for the child, including three sets of school uniforms."

"Of course, Professor Snape." Gladrag said with his eyes large and starting to get into a panic attack of sorts, calling out orders for a cup of tea being brought first and he couldn't help thinking that – yes, a cup of tea surely would prevent the man from dying of a heart attack. Harry looked up at him, his pale face questioningly.

"I guess, Gladrag does not have a customer who needs several complete outfits for a child every day." He explained, trying to keep the boy himself as calm as possible. He definitely would have to find out why the child was so frightened upon being in a shop.

"Indeed." Gladrag agreed after tea had been brought and handed out to the storekeeper as well as to the Professor and his son. "Never before had I had a child here that needed a complete outfit, the children normally own at least a few clothes already and knowing your father he surely does not expect one basic set."

"Of course not!" He huffed, steadying Harry's trembling hand before he would spill the tea. "You do know my standards, Mr. Gladrag."

"Of course, Professor Snape." The man said, calmer finally, and got to work. "Black and green as basic colours, I take it?" He then asked. "And the shirts white?"

"Yes, please." He said. "But add blue and – _red_ to the basic colours as well."

"A Gryffindor, I take it?" Gladrag asked, eyeing the boy before casting a sideways glance towards him, Snape, his face clearly showing his curiosity about him, Severus Snape, the head of Slytherin house, having a son that had been sorted into Gryffindor.

"Indeed." The Potions Master drawled. "If you please would get started then?"

"Of course, Professor Snape, of course."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Mom, look, it's a real ghost?" The voice of a small child could be heard and the Potions Master turned with a scowl on his face

They had been finished at Gladrag's an hour later and Harry had been a nervous wreck by then. The boy definitely had _not_ taken all the measuring and prodding too well, and in the end the shopkeeper had had no other chance than casting a measuring spell – it wouldn't be as well fitting as manual measuring, but it would do and Gladrag was no novice after all – he would know what to do so the clothes fit as well in the end as if they had been measured manually.

"Can't we just go?" Harry quietly asked, tugging on his sleeve. "I have my books and all other things already and I really don't need anything else from here."

"You do need new quills and a few pencils as well as some other equipment." He said. "I have seen your belongings, Harry, and they are not existent. I also suggest that you chose a few colouring pencils, a ruler, an eraser and a pencil case – as well as a sketch book."

"Why would I need a sketch book?" The boy asked, looking up at him in irritation.

"Plainly, because I suggested it." He simply said, not ready to explain his mind right now. He wanted the boy out of here and in the Steaming Kitchen for dinner before he had a complete nervous breakdown – and possibly without hurrying him too much through the shopping, something that wasn't too easy as he felt the need for pressure, the boy's only clear wish being to heed home finally.

He already could imagine the boy's real body in the hospital wing becoming restless and he already had sent a patronus to Poppy half an hour ago with instructions on adding a calming potion to the boy's system while he himself had considered giving one to the boy's ghost form as well.

"'K." The child said, turning back to the shelf and choosing some of the coloured pencils, he easily noticed that he was choosing dark colours only – two different dark green, blue and red each as well as different brown colours and a dark grey and black pencil. He didn't comment on the missing colours though, but kept in mind to simply get them himself at a later point in time. Right now the boy had chosen some – as difficult as choosing something for himself seemed to be for his son, and that was enough for him at the moment.

"Can we go now, please?" The boy softly asked, looking up at him with large and pleading eyes, with tired and exhausted eyes and he couldn't resist them.

"Yes." He simply said, leading the boy to the counter to pay for the things Harry had chosen.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"May I suggest the rather large section on ghost comics we have?" The clerk behind the counter asked upon looking at the boy and the Potions Master scowled, again placing a calming hand at his son's shoulder.

"No, you may not." He growled darkly, tightening the grip he had on the boy's shoulder to keep him close by. "You however may tell me your name so that I can inform your employer of your lack in discretion what surely will help you in thinking before opening this tactless mouth of yours in future."

He could feel movement beneath his hand on Harry's shoulder, the boy's head going up at him and he didn't have to look down to know that the boy had a questioning, maybe startled look on his face by now, not used to being defended to such a degree by him, Snape, of all people. Well – not only Harry managed to pull the rug from under his feet – as it seemed he, Snape, managed to do the same with the boy as well, a rather satisfying thought, he had to admit that.

"I didn't mean it like that, sir and you have my sincere apology." The idiot clerk started, his voice unsure. "Maybe you would like taking these things as a present from our house as a small reparation?"

"Your name –" He demanded, his dark eyes on the man's pale face.

"Daniel Brown." The man finally said, gulping.

"Very well, Mr. Brown, the bill, if you would please?"

A moment later he had paid for their shopping, had shrunken the items and had then left the shop with the boy who was trembling by now.

"I suggest we stop in the Steaming Kitchen before we visit our last shop for today." He quietly said, steering the boy towards the tavern nearby. "We will take a small dinner there and then we can go on to our last stop.

"Couldn't we go to the Leaky Cauldron instead?" The boy asked, hopefully, before he clasped both his hands over his mouth at realizing that he had asked not just an inappropriate question but that he had asked for something for himself no less, that he might seem ungrateful with his question as Snape already had payed so much for him and was now about taking him for lunch too.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_you will be quite fine  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

106 Points - Slytherin

080 Points - Ravenclaw

043 Points - Gryffindor

069 Points - Hufflepuff


	34. you will be quite fine

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

February, 12th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"Very well, Mr. Brown, the bill, if you would please?"_

_A moment later he had paid for their shopping, had shrunken the items and had then left the shop with the boy who was trembling by now. _

_"I suggest we stop in the Steaming Kitchen before we visit our last shop for today." He quietly said, steering the boy towards the tavern nearby. "We will have a small lunch there and then we can go on to our last stop._

_"Couldn't we go to the Leaky Cauldron instead?" The boy asked, hopefully, before he clasped both his hands over his mouth at realizing that he had asked not just an inappropriate question but that he had asked for something for himself no less, that he might seem ungrateful with his question. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter thirty-four **

**You will be quite fine**

"No, Harry." He said, stopping the boy and looking down at him before lowering himself to one knee in front of the boy, startling not only the twelve year old but several other people on the street with his action – the nasty, dark and tough Potions Master, most hated teacher at Hogwarts – _he_ was kneeling in front of a second year! "And not because you have asked or would like going there, but because I will not visit a pub like the Leaky Cauldron while I have a child in company as this – _establishment_ is not made for children such as you. I will not have you in there before you are much older – neither for a meal nor for using the floo as there are other fireplaces in Diagon Alley to use aside from the Leaky Cauldron." He tried to explain so the boy would truly understand. "You are allowed to ask questions, I even expect you to ask questions and I expect you to tell me what you would like or not like, but you will have to accept my final word as I see fit and visiting a pub like the Leaky Cauldron for a child is out of question."

"Yes, sir." The boy said, like always. "Sorry, sir."

"There again is no need to apologize, Harry." He sighed while straightening. "I just expect you to accept my decision."

"'K." Was the still miserable answer and he led the boy further down the street until they reached the tavern to their right and then led the boy in.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry had been disappointed first, and scared.

He knew the Leaky Cauldron already, he had been in there with Hagrid last year before the half giant had brought him to Kings Cross, and he already had eaten something in there either. And so he knew that it wasn't a restaurant where he would have trouble with anything because no one would expect anything from him in an – establishment like that, like Snape had said. No one would look at him if he held his fork and knife the wrong way, or his spoon.

He hadn't been so sure with the Steaming Kitchen. Snape had sounded as if it was a restaurant of some kind in which you would need much more manners. And he knew that he had none of _that_! He never had been explained anything by aunt Petunia like Dudley, after all, so how should he know how correct eating was done to begin with? He only would shame his father and then the man would be angry at him. And he didn't want his father being angry at him.

And not only because he feared what the man could do to him if he was angry, now that he was officially his father, but also because – he wanted to make things right, he wanted this to work! He wanted a family! Snape or not, but he wanted him to be his family!

Because Snape had been the only one ever who cared.

However, it hadn't been as bad as he had feared.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The Potions Master of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, Severus Snape, watched the boy sitting opposite him, the child smiling broadly, and he leaned back in his seat, wondering what had caused this smile on the pale face. The boy never had smiled much so far.

Frowning he thought of their lunch. It had been strange, the boy had asked for nothing than a cup of tea when he had asked him to order, even if he had known that the boy had been hungry and he had waved the innkeeper away, causing his son to look at him startled and scared again.

**Flashback**

_"Harry?" He asked, his dark eyes on the boy who looked up at him, slowly, as if he knew that he had done something wrong. _

_"Sir?" The boy then just as unsurely asked._

_"I am sure that you would like having more than – just tea." He said, his dark eyes still piercing the boy. "I am sure that you are hungry."_

_"No, sir – I mean, yes, sir." The boy quickly added when he lifted his eyebrow. "But it isn't necessary, really, I mean … I'd only shame you anyway and it's only expensive too and you already have spent …"_

_"First – do you think I had brought you here for lunch if I were not ready paying for your meal?" He asked, his face dark. "I am your father and I am not only responsible for you, I also am the one providing you with what you need – clothes, school supplies, food, a room with anything in it you need, books, kind of – toys, and other things, including taking you out for lunch or dinner."_

_The boy looked down, but he nodded._

_"Second – why in Merlin's name do you think that you would shame me by ordering something to eat?" He then asked, lifting his eyebrow when the boy shrugged his shoulders. _

_"I would like you to answer the question, Harry." He said as sternly as possible while still sounding gentle – something that wasn't too easy he had noticed lately. _

_"Dunno." The ghost finally answered. "I've never been out … Dudley had been out and aunt Petunia had shown him how to behave and … and things, but … well, as I've never been out, there'd been no reason for her to show me and … well …"_

_"We will work on this." He quietly said when it was clear that the pre-teen did not intend on continuing his speech, realizing how far reaching everything was with the boy. Many of his Slytherins came from Death Eater families and therefore were abused or neglected, sometimes even both, but never would they abuse their children to such an extend as no pureblood wizard would risk his pureblood child's life and they never would neglect their children to such an extend as they needed to educate their children in wizarding standards and etiquette. It was different with Harry, with his son, and he only could guess what else would come up in future years. _

_"But neither here nor now." He finally said. "This tavern here is no restaurant and no one will mind you showing manners or not, even if I expect you to do your best anyway. Considering however that I have seen you being able eating without drooling and without speaking with a full mouth – something that not every Gryffindor student is capable of – it will suffice in here. Anything else we will work on before I take you into a more luxury restaurant. And now – are you ready to order anything else than just – tea?"_

_"But … what if …"_

_"You will make no mistake and even if you do – then be it." He said, his dark eyes still on the boy. "You will be quite fine."_

_"'K." The boy said, his shoulders slumped in defeat and he could see that he still didn't feel too well about it. _

**End flashback**

He had waved the innkeeper over then and they had ordered their lunch, a simple soup with potatoes, beef and beans, and slices of white toasted bread. The boy first had been unsurely looking around from between his black fringes, looking if anyone was watching him, but after a while he had started eating, as slowly and as unsurely as he always did, holding his spoon much too low down the handle like any small child would do – another sign of his unsureness, the boy being afraid of dropping his cutlery. He would work on such things with his son later, when the boy had learned to trust him, that he was safe with him.

After a while however the boy had started to relax and he even had closed his eyes while eating, savouring the taste of the soup and as strange as it was – Severus Snape felt satisfied with the child being so – happy. As if – as if it made himself happy.

What a ridiculous thought!

He was Severus Snape. He was a dark and tough man, a spy and Death Eater, the head of the most shunned house at Hogwarts and definitely the most hated teacher imaginable – nature itself trembled with firhgt and held its breath while he passed and – he was not a happy man!

And surely not because he had made a child happy!

He did not make children happy!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_babbling in the steaming kitchen  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

109 Points - Slytherin

084 Points - Ravenclaw

045 Points - Gryffindor

072 Points - Hufflepuff


	35. babbling in the Steaming Kitchen

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

February, 14th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_After a while however the boy had started to relax and he even had closed his eyes while eating, savouring the taste of the soup and as strange as it was – Severus Snape felt satisfied with the child being so – happy. As if – as if it made himself happy._

_What a ridiculous thought!_

_He was Severus Snape. He was a dark and tough man, a spy and Death Eater, the head of the most shunned house at Hogwarts and definitely the most hated teacher imaginable – nature itself trembled with fright and held its breath while he passed and – he was not a happy man!_

_And surely not because he had made a child happy!_

_He did not make children happy!_

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter thirty-five **

**Babbling in the Steaming Kitchen**

"Thank you, sir." The boy said, getting him out of his thoughts. "I've been to the Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid, but this here is even better. I've never been to eat outside before."

"Would you care for a dessert?" His traitorous tongue asked before he could stop himself – again doing what Severus Snape never was doing, making any child happy.

"Really?" The boy asked, his green eyes large and for a moment he looked like a small little ghost that was told that he was allowed to rattle extra loudly with his chains during the night. "I've never had dessert outside of Hogwarts!"

'_You have never had enough food to begin with outside of Hogwarts!'_ He thought, but he didn't say anything. The boy was happy right now and he would not destroy this, the green ghostlike eyes for once sparkling with delight and bliss, the boy's normally so pale cheeks rosy for once and he didn't regret having brought the child here instead of having lunch at the castle.

"Dudley didn't like it so much, but he asked for it an'way 'cause he knew he could eat it in front of me an' I had to watch but never got it." The boy rambled on, most likely unaware that he did what he had refused doing for days, talking about his life with the Dursleys and his abuse – or neglect. "'M sure he wouldn't be so corpulent if he hadn't wanted to pick on me all the time with him getting desert and me not." The boy went on and he nearly huffed at that – corpulent really being a _very_ gently description for that whale of a boy that was Harry's cousin. "I'd like trying that hot chocolate with marshmallows one day, with mini marshmallows. Aunt Petunia always had a package of those small marshmallows in her cupboard but I've never dared to try them."

'_Of course not.'_ The Potions Master thought, but again he kept his thoughts to himself.

"But in pre-school we've had those _large_ marshmallows once, though not with hot chocolate, but everyone who'd managed tying their shoe laces got one, and I _did_ manage and so I got one. I quickly ate it before Dudley could take it away though, because he didn't get one, because aunt Petunia always tied his laces and he'd never learned it. He complained about it at home … well …" Of course he noticed the short pause and of course he also noticed the boy averting his eyes for a moment, noticed the boy stiffening for a moment before he continued, and he knew what the boy did not tell – namely that he had been punished for being better than his cousin and for getting something his cousin had been denied. "Well … aunt Petunia showed him how to do it and two weeks later he'd actually managed, but he didn't get a marshmallow in pre-school then though because they didn't have some anymore."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The Potions Master couldn't help smiling while he listened to his son's rambling.

Yes, the boy indeed were telling a few very interesting things when he rambled – for example how idiotic the Dursley boy really was, needing three weeks of intense training to learn how to tie his laces – in pre school – and how very spoiled this whale of a boy was while Harry himself had been neglected so very much that he needed to quickly put any food into his mouth so it couldn't be taken away anymore, while he was punished – most likely even beaten – for managing something his cousin had not managed, or for getting a marshmallow while his cousin had gotten none.

If it had been any other child, he would have dismissed the boy's rambling as annoying and irritating babbling, but with Harry, it was a different story. He not only knew how important it was for this child to speak his mind about such things, but he also hadn't seen the child smiling so broadly in a very long time and with a trace of guilt, he realised that this would probably fall under the boy's classification of 'the best days of his life', and it was then that he promised – he would create more of such happy days for his son.

For them both, because as unlikely as it was – and surely he would _not_ admit it, _never_ – but he was happy as well.

Maybe.

A bit.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Ron told me of Gambol & Japes once." The boy suddenly said and looking over Snape noticed that they were passing a shop that was decorated in such bright decorations that he couldn't help wincing for a moment, the colours clearly showing that it was a Gryffindor owning the shop now. He hadn't been in there for many years and so it must have changed hands to the next generation by now. And seeing that he had confiscated many of the products sold by Gambol & Japes throughout the years, he knew that they weren't of the same quality as those he had bought there once to use on someone named James Potter and Sirius Black.

Of course he knew why the boy had given this particular hint and of course he would not allow the boy such nonsense!

Looking down at the boy and seeing the child's longing expression – "would you like going inside to have a look what might be so interesting in Mr. Weasley's opinion?" – he knew he couldn't deny the child something that he never had been allowed before, especially as he himself had been here as a teenager himself. "I myself wonder if they still have the same products they used to have when I have been your age." He then added with a smirk on his face, just to see his son's startled face.

"You've bought joke things, sir?" Harry asked, blinking up at him open-mouthed and with stupidly large, green eyes.

"Do not look so shocked." The Potions Master smirked. "I have not been born as an adult after all. And close your mouth, lest you catch flies." Harry abruptly shut his mouth.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The moment they had gotten home and Severus had enlarged their shopping so that Harry could put it away, the boy had been standing there for a moment before his bloody Gryffindor bravery, boldness and rashness, this blasted Gryffindor impulsiveness and foolishness had taken the upper hand and the idiot child had – hugged him!

_Him! Snape!_

Leaning his forehead against his chest and wrapping his arms around his waist, the idiot child had _hugged_ him!

He had – reluctantly – replied after a moment of hesitance, knowing that he was never going to get used to Harry's tendency to hug or being hugged, but he had and now, an hour later, the boy already being in bed and sleeping, he was sitting in his armchair, a tumbler of whiskey in his hands and still knowing that he never ever again would forget the feeling of those small arms around his midsection.

He had felt as good as when little Harry had wrapped his small arms around his neck, back then, when his son – his son! – had been barely a year old. He remembered what it had felt like, back then, now he remembered, after the memory charm Dumbledore had cast over him was gone, now he remembered and he remembered what it had felt like, being a father, having a son.

He had thought that he never ever again would be able going there, that he never ever again would feel the same, that the boy that now had come into his life so suddenly was too old for that, that he surely wouldn't feel the same about a twelve year old like about a one year old – but having the child, his son, hugging him so infuriatingly – it had felt the same. But of course, he never would admit this.

Getting off his armchair he went over to the boy's room and opened the door a bit, peering inside.

The ghost child was laying in bed, sleeping peacefully, his back to the wall and curled into a small protective ball, but peacefully for once. They'd had other nights, when the boy had slept restlessly, suffering from nightmares and panic attacks, so a peaceful night was very welcomed for once in a while.

Frowning he got closer and sat onto the edge of the bed, slowly extending his hand to brush away some strands of the black hair from a pale face – and not for the first time he wondered – how was it that he could touch the ghost, or the half-ghost, whatever Harry was at the present time. He simply didn't understand it.

He had read books, and more than one, on the subject – and the last one had been a small and old handwritten book from a wizard named Nathaniel Detmold who'd had a son that was half alive and half dead, half a living boy and half a ghost. The problem was – the book had given him no solution as Nathaniel Detmold's brother had killed the boy a year after his spirit had left his body because he had been unable to watch the dead and unresponsive body of his nephew any longer. The ghost form had remained behind in the world of the living, having nothing to go back to and having no place to go to find peace either.

There was however one thing that had made him thinking – one old spell in combination with a potion Nathaniel Detmold had been ready to try if his brother had not been faster and had killed the child before he had been able doing so … he would have to do some re-searches and he already had ordered some books on the subject.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Frowning he ran his hand one last time through the boy's hair before he forced himself to get up abruptly. He left Harry's room and then crossed his quarters, hurried through corridors and up some flights of stairs until he reached the infirmary and entered.

Every night since he had brought the boy here he had come to sit by his son's actual body as well as he did with the child's ghost form and more than once he simply had wondered – wouldn't it be easier for all of them if he took the boy's body down into his quarters as well? He didn't want to place it into the room he had given his son's ghost form, the boy surely feeling not only scared by his – nearly dead body but the child never having had a room to himself either. He did not wish to take this from his son now that he had it.

He knew that it was ridiculous to sit with the child here in the infirmary, the boy was without his ghost, he wouldn't know if he was here or not and he wouldn't remember even if he ever would have his ghost back. He couldn't hear him and he couldn't see him, he couldn't sense him even. People said someone in a coma could sense their family or friends being there – but Harry was in no coma, he was – except for his lungs breathing and his heart beating – dead. A person in a coma still had their ghosts – Harry did not, his ghost had left his body and was living in a complete different part of the castle.

And nevertheless he came here every night to sit with the still body, to –

But the boy's body wasn't always still! Not for the first time he frowned while sitting here.

It seemed restless when his ghost form was restless and vice versa.

Frowning he leaned closer and ran his hand through the boy's hair, brushing strands of black hair from a pale face – like he had done with his son's ghost form just minutes ago. What if –

What if he wouldn't try … but no, this would be ridiculous and it would never work either.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_if only he had known  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

112 Points - Slytherin

085 Points - Ravenclaw

047 Points - Gryffindor

078 Points - Hufflepuff


	36. if only he had known

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

February, 16th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say – remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs – whichever – of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_He knew that it was ridiculous to sit with the child here in the infirmary, the boy was without his ghost, he wouldn't know if he was here or not and he wouldn't remember even if he ever would have his ghost back. He couldn't hear him and he couldn't see him, he couldn't sense him even. People said someone in a coma could sense their family or friends being there – but Harry was in no coma, he was – except of his lungs breathing and his heart beating – dead. A person in a coma still had their ghosts – Harry did not, his ghost had left his body and was living in a complete different part of the castle. _

_And nevertheless he came here every night to sit with the still body, to – _

_But the boy's body wasn't always still! Not for the first time he frowned while sitting here. _

_It seemed restless when his ghost form was restless and vice versa. _

_Frowning he leaned closer and ran his hand through the boy's hair, brushing strands of black hair from a pale face – like he had done with his son's ghost form just minutes ago. What if – _

_What if he wouldn't try … but no, this would be ridiculous and it would never work either. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter thirty-six **

**If only he had known**

"Like I said – I wish to resort Harry." He said, causing Minerva to sigh and Albus to scowl at him. "So, if you would please hand over the sorting hat?"

"Are you really sure that this is what you wish, Severus?" Albus asked.

"Have I ever demanded anything that was not my wish, old man?" He asked, ignoring Harry looking up at him startled and ignoring some of the drawings behind Dumbledore's desk lifting their eyebrows at his tone of voice and his choice of words with the headmaster.

"Mr. Potter?" Minerva quietly asked the boy and he nearly growled at her. But well – she only wanted to make sure that it was Harry's wish as well. He would do the same with any of his Slytherins being in the same position – just that he would have done more and spoken with his student in privacy.

"I'd like to, Ma'am." Harry quietly said, not looking up from the floor and he only could imagine how the boy felt. "'S not 'cause of you, Ma'am, but … I don' feel safe in the tower an'more an' I don' feel well there an'more either. The others 'nly shun me 'cause they're scared."

"I have heard about the incidents in the tower and they are punished for it." Minerva said, and his scowl deepened. But well, if the boy wanted to stay a Gryffindor – he would not go against Harry's wish.

"'Know." Harry said finally looking up. "But that won't change how they feel."

"But you're a Gryffindor, Mr. Potter." Minerva then said, trying one last move.

"'M a Slytherin as well." Harry said, again averting his eyes and he looked down at the small ghost, frowning.

He would know it if Harry were a Slytherin, not to mention that one couldn't belong into two houses and the sorting hat definitely had sorted Harry into the house of Gryffindor over a year ago. He had been there, he had witnessed it! And that was the reason as to why a sorting always was done in front of all four heads of houses as well as the headmaster. Not a re-sorting, mind you. A re-sorting could be demanded by any head of house and it could be done with only the presence of the former head of house, the head of house that had demanded the re-sorting if different from above mentioned person and the headmaster. But the original sorting had to take place in the presence of all four houses and the headmaster.

But then – _"Oh, but he should be." _The bloody hat had said, causing him to whirl around and look at him in shock._ "He should be yours, he is yours actually!"_

Could it be that the sorting hat had not only meant Harry being his son but – Harry belonging into his house as well? Harry being not only a Snape but a Slytherin as well? But how? The hat had definitely sorted Harry into Gryffindor, he had been there and he had heard the hat's decision, had heard him calling out "Gryffindor". Like it was the rule he had witnessed it a year ago for Merlin's sake!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"You have heard my son." He finally said, wanting to end this finally before Harry got too restless and unease. The boy had been through enough already and he didn't need this kind of crap added to anything else that had been done to him.

"Very well." Albus sighed and got off his armchair to approach the shelf on which the sorting hat was sitting since centuries.

"Getting the chance of leaving this board twice a year now?" The hat asked even before the headmaster had approached him and he smirked, wondering why the blasted piece of cloth had not gotten into the conversation earlier – it just would have been like this one.

"My apology for disturbing you, but …"

"I have already told you that – the boy is as much a Slytherin as he is a Gryffindor and if it were up to me, then he would have been in the house of the snakes since his first day as I have sorted him into Slytherin. I only have re-sorted him because it has been his wish."

"But then it is clear!" Albus smiled at them all. "Harry does not wish to …"

"Only because of misguided information, Dumbledore." The hat growled, cutting the headmaster off. "And I only allowed him because I knew that in the end he would land himself in Slytherin sooner or later anyway."

"In other words – there is no re-sorting necessary because Harry already always has been a Slytherin as well as a Gryffindor?" The Potions Master asked, his eyes narrowed at the headmaster who apparently had known about that.

"Exactly, Snape." The hat agreed and Severus placed a calming hand onto his son's shoulder.

"Just to have all misunderstandings cleared – Harry might be a Gryffindor and he _always_ might be one, but at the same time he actually _is_ already a Slytherin and I can take him into my house to live in the Slytherin common room if he so wishes?"

"Exactly, Severus." The hat again agreed.

"In this case – we are finished here." He said, increasing his pressure he had on the small ghost's shoulder before leading the boy out of the headmaster's office. His son had been a Slytherin all the time. He'd been a Gryffindor as well, but he also had been a Slytherin all the time! This blasted sorting hat had been right in so many regards. This child was his! He was a student from his house and he was his son, he was his child, his responsibility, his snake, his Slytherin and yes, even his Gryffindor, the child simply was his, and always had been.

If only he had known.

Because if he had, then maybe the child could be alive still.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It was a week later that he was sitting behind his desk in the potions classroom, not being an inch closer to the problem with the ghost child and the body of his son but having noticed a few other strange things and with a frown – one of his many frowns latterly – he watched the class leaving.

Draco was standing near the door, waiting for Harry, as was Theodore, Weasley was scowling into their direction and Granger and Longbottom were looking worriedly. Crabbe and Goyle were scowling at Weasley and Thomas and Finnigan were scowling at Crabbe and Goyle instead. All in all – it was a rather explosive mood lately between those two houses – since one particular potions lesson and since he had taken Harry to the part of the dungeons where the Slytherin common room was.

**Flashback**

_"Put your wands away." He drawled upon entering his classroom. "And put your books away as well, you won't need them today. Now – we will start with the Slytherin side of the classroom. Mr. Malfoy, please do come over here."_

_Draco knew what would come next and slowly he shuffled over to his desk, stood there and unsurely looked over at him. He would like giving the boy a reassuring touch or at least smile – but for now he did not, out of several reasons and one was that he did not wish the Gryffindors seeing behind his small dragon's mask. He could see beyond it, could see his godson's nervousness and fear, but not the Gryffindors._

_"Take a sip of this potion please." He said, reaching the vial of the potion Draco had brewed the lesson before and the boy took the small potions container with a hand he barely could keep from trembling. There was one last begging look in pale blue eyes but then Draco took a sip of the truth potion. _

_"Very well, Mr. Malfoy." He then said, nodding in approval at the trust the boy displayed despite his fears. "Would you mind telling me what the Slytherin house colours are?" He then asked and he nearly laughed at the boy's frown. _

_"They're silver and green, sir." Draco said with a voice that was trembling. _

_"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy." The Potions Master then smirked, reaching a different vial at his godson. "The counter potion." He then added and he smirked at the relieved face of the boy. _

_"Mr. Nott." He then waved the boy over to his desk, reaching him the vial with the potion Theodore had been brewing during their last potions class. "A sip if you please."_

_And the boy obeyed, took a sip, looking at him in a mixture of relief and fear still. Relief after the easy question he had asked of Draco and fear because he still feared he might go not as easy on him as he had on his godson._

_"Very well, Mr. Nott." He then said. Leaning against his desk. "Would you please tell me what the house elves had served for breakfast today?" _

_"Uhm … it's been pancakes, strawberries and toast." The boy said, answering his question. "Together with tea and orange juice." _

_"Thank you, Mr. Nott." He than said, offering the vial with the counter potion to this boy as well to take a sip. _

**End flashback**

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_how would you feel  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

123 Points - Slytherin

087 Points - Ravenclaw

049 Points - Gryffindor

081 Points - Hufflepuff

like I have promised Catlady, our new Gryffindor head of house, I will remind all you Gryffindors to help in getting up your house - even if I am contraproductive now … but well, seeing that Slytherin is in the clear lead, I guess I can afford this … :D … good luck …


	37. how would you feel?

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

February, 18th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy." The Potions Master then smirked, reaching a different vial at his godson. "The counter potion." He then added and he smirked at the relieved face of the boy. _

_"Mr. Nott." He then waved the boy over to his desk, reaching him the vial with the potion Theodore had been brewing during their last potions class. "A sip if you please."_

_And the boy obeyed, took a sip, looking at him in a mixture of relieve and fear still. Relieve after the easy question he had asked of Draco and fear because he still feared he might go not as easy on him._

_"Very well, Mr. Nott." He then said. Leaning against his desk. "Would you please tell me what the house elves had served for breakfast today?" _

_"Uhm … it's been pancakes, oranges and toast." The boy said, answering his question. "Together with tea and orange juice." _

_"Thank you, Mr. Nott." He than said, offering the vial with the counter potion to this boy as well to take a sip. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter thirty-seven **

**How would you feel?**

He'd had all the Slytherins at the front and all of them had gotten easy questions from him, having their fun even at his questions that surely never would have qualified as questions for testing a truth serum to begin with, seeing as anyone knew the answers to them anyway. He then had called Harry to his desk.

**Flashback**

_"Harry, you are next, come here please." He said, intentionally calling the boy by his given name to not only make his point, but to also take some tension from the small ghost form that seemed to snap into half at any moment. And nevertheless, the boy was looking more than just scared while he slowly came to the front of the classroom, barely able to keep his composure and self-control, but well, he had known that the boy would be scared to death._

_"Just trust me." He softly said after Harry had taken the vial with the potion he had brewed a few days before, the small and ghostlike fingers trembling, but not taking a sip of it, looking up at him pleadingly instead. "I won't hurt you." He then added quietly, and taking a deep breath the boy took a sip of the potion. _

_"Well done, Harry." He so softly said that at the best one of his Slytherins might have heard his comment and he dared a small smile at his son. "Now, would you please tell me, if your given name is written with one or with two 'r'?" He then asked, his voice back to normal so that he was well heard in the classroom._

_"With two 'r', sir." The boy answered, his voice trembling but looking very relieved and he smiled at the boy, ignoring the Slytherins' chucklings and the Gryffindors' gasps._

_"I do thank you, Harry." He then said, offering the counter potion to his son, the by that actually smiled up at him._

**End flashback**

Of course he had heard the boy's quiet "thank you, sir" when Harry had gone back to his seat and he had inclined his head, knowing that his Slytherins – and Draco especially – were watching him very close by now.

He then had called over Miss Patil, had asked her what her eye colour was and the girl answered with a "brown, Professor". Well, neither Miss Patil nor Mr. Longbottom had been with the crowd listening to Granger's reading nor had they bullied Harry so far. He didn't see a reason to punish them or to teach them a lesson.

Longbottom he had asked of the name of his grandmother and like expected – the boy had answered truthfully with an "Augusta Longbottom" and he had inclined his head, given the boy the counter potion and then send him back to his seat.

The next he had called to the front had been Miss Brown and he had asked her a more difficult question – as to why she would listen to someone's privacy being read in the common room – a question that not only had _her_ squirming uncomfortably but some other Gryffindors as well.

With a very red face the girl had answered that she had wanted to know what was being read so that she wouldn't be the only one left out.

The next and surely more difficult part had been – Granger.

**Flashback**

_"Miss Granger, if you would come here please." He called the Gryffindor girl to the forefront and even if he knew that the girl was not entirely against Harry being a ghost but only – scared of some sort – he wouldn't allow her to invade anyone's privacy in a way she had done and had she been in his house – well, she surely wouldn't have gotten away so easily._

_The girl – after Miss Brown's question – already knowing that hers surely wouldn't be as easy as had been Harry's or the Slytherins' either, looked up at him as if to ask him to go easy on her and for a moment she seemed to refuse the potion she had brewed during the last lesson._

_"The potion, Miss Granger, I do mean it." He drawled, not pulling his hand that held the vial back and finally the girl took the vial and took a sip of her truth serum. _

_"Seeing that you seem to regret your own actions later – I will go easy on you and only ask you: why have you read Mr. Potter's private thoughts to the entire common room two weeks ago?" He then said, sure that Granger would call this question anything but "going easy", but he wanted to make her realizing what her actions had done to Harry – and there were a few questions he could have asked that surely were worse than this one was._

_"I don't know." The girl quietly answered and he lifted his eyebrow at her. "I just didn't think! And I've been so angry and startled and I wanted to know what the others thought and I wanted to know what had happened and what Harry had to say and there were so many things and I just didn't think of it, I just wanted Harry to feel bad because he had made me feeling bad."_

_"How would Mr. Potter have made you feeling bad, Miss Granger, seeing that he had done nothing to you except of – suddenly having died and being a ghost?" He wanted to know, not really understanding. _

_"Because just that!" The girl then said. "We've been friends! And we've been always together and done things together and suddenly … I just didn't understand and … and I still don't understand it! How could that … and what will happen now? What will happen to Harry and what will happen to our friendship and what … I just … and I didn't want to hurt him and I'm really sorry but I … I just don't understand it and I don't know what …"_

_Unable to go on the girl stopped, sobbing and with a deep sigh he pulled the girl's trembling form close for a moment, startling not only the girl with his actions but causing the Gryffindors to gasp in shock as well before reaching a vial with a calming potion and then the counter potion towards her, the girl obediently taking them. _

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

_"I do understand your fears and insecurity, Miss Granger, but I do not understand your need to hurt your friend only because you have been hurt as it has not been Mr. Potter who has hurt you but – simply fate." He then said, trying to sound calmly. "Mr. Potter has done nothing to you personally, he has done nothing to anyone in fact. He simply has – died in some ways, surely nothing he is to be blamed for. I am sure that – if you ask him, then he surely will tell you that he has not been planning on dying and startling you or frightening you but that he has been startled just as much and that he himself is scared just as much. Anyone would be. Imagine you awake one morning and realize that you are dead suddenly. Imagine you are one day feeling your ghost leaving your body, and imagine you in your ghost form, having to watch your dead body – or your body dying. How would you feel?"_

_He took a deep breath and then cast a long look at Harry, the boy sitting there in the back of the class, pale and rigid, his green eyes larger than they normally were and his fingers trembling. A glance at his Slytherins told him that they were startled, that they were shocked at the thought, knowing what exactly his words meant as they – not being strangers to the subject of abuse – surely had noticed the bruises on Harry's translucent face and neck. And they could add one and two together. A glance at the remaining Gryffindors he had not questioned now showed – Thomas and Finnigan were casting questioning glances at Weasley who looked defiantly and so they imitated him, apparently Weasley being their 'leader'. _

_"As for what will happen now, Miss Granger – this depends on you." He then said. "You may continue with avoiding Harry, what surely will destroy the last remnants of your friendship, or you might try to overcome the - 'creepy feeling' and try to make the best of the situation in simply – approaching a ghost child. Think of how you would feel and I am sure you will manage. You may go back to your seat. Misters Weasley, Finnigan and Thomas please." He then called the three boys to the front of the classroom and he got off his desk, meeting them in his usual Snape-like stance, towering over them._

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die_  
><em>**

_a word please_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

127 Points - Slytherin

088 Points - Ravenclaw

050 Points - Gryffindor

085 Points - Hufflepuff


	38. a word please

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

February, 20th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"As for what will happen now, Miss Granger – this depends on you." He then said. "You may continue with avoiding Harry, what surely will destroy the last remnants of your friendship, or you might try to overcome the - 'creepy feeling' and try to make the best of the situation in simply – approaching a ghost child. Think of how you would feel and I am sure you will manage. You may go back to your seat. Misters Weasley, Finnigan and Thomas please." He then called the three boys to the front of the classroom and he got off his desk, meeting them in his usual Snape-like stance, towering over them._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter thirty-eight **

**A word please**

**Flashback**

_"A sip please, each of you." He said, holding out three vials with the truth serum. For a moment Finnigan and Thomas looked as if they might refuse, but then they followed Weasleys example _– _who had downed his potion in one go, defiantly looking up at him and even his stance showed – he wouldn't give in. Foolish boy!_

_"Hmm." He made, clearly amused and lifting his eyebrow. "A sip clearly would have been enough but well, the entire vial won't harm you either. It only will increase the time and will take effect for longer than the hour a truth serum normally works for _– _two or three days, I guess. But be it. So – how is it, that three pre-teenagers at the age of twelve years feel the need of – urinating on the bed of one of their classmates?" He then asked, not impressed at the shocked faces of the three boys who surely had not thought of him asking this particular question. Those idiot boys surely had thought that he would question them on their misuse of privacy like he had done with Patil and Granger only._

_"Ron told us to." Finnigan answered, his face as red as a tomato and his gaze went from the class to Harry, back to the class, and then back to him, Snape while Weasley hissed an angry "shut up, you idiot" at the boy. "He'd said that a ghost wouldn't sleep in a bed anyway and that he wanted to know if a ghost would mind a wet bed to begin with. I'm sorry, really, I've only thought about it later, when Harry had been laying on the floor beside the bed to sleep on the floor. I didn't want that but … what should I have done? I …"_

_"You for once could have shown this Gryffindor bravery you are so well known for and you could have gone against Mr. Weasley's – 'order' – as it not only is revolting and sickening, urinating on someone else's bed, and that with twelve years! You should be ashamed of yourselves! All of you three! I definitely am ashamed of such beastly imbeciles as you and were you in my house, be assured that you would have been punished in a more severe way than you already are. Your actions towards one of your own classmates are unspeakable!"_

_"So what!" Weasley had the nerve to shout, the truth serum taking over, together with his anger. "What's it to you? You're not our head of house!"_

_"No, I am not, Mr. Weasley, luckily for you." He drawled at the boy. "And nevertheless I am a teacher here at Hogwarts and so you are a student of mine as well as is Mr. Potter and as your teacher it is in my hand to punish you as well as it is in my hand to protect Mr. Potter from further abuse and bullying his own house is bestowing upon him. But if you are so sure that you have done nothing wrong – we also can address your mother with what you have done, Mr. Weasley, I am sure that Molly will be very pleased with your actions, do you not think so?"_

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

_"So what?" The boy screamed at him. "I don't care! I …"_

_"You better keep a grip _ …"_  
><em>

_"Please …"_

_"Uncle Severus …"_

_Looking up at Draco who had called him, and who had called him with 'uncle Severus', and in class so, openly, something he never had done before, well he noticed the boy looking between him, Snape, and Harry who had uttered the small 'please' and upon taking in the deathly pale face, the tears and the boy's trembling form – he took a deep breath. _

_"Seeing that you foolishly have emptied the entire vial with your truth serum – it will last for three days and I am sure that many people will ask you very awkward questions during this time, Mr. Weasley. What you have done is not only disgusting, but gruesome as well. You are dismissed. The entire class is dismissed."_

_"Uhm … the counter potion, sir?" Finnigan asked, looking at him with large eyes and he lifted his eyebrow at the boy – together with another vial that was empty by now, the one with the counter potion._

_"I am so sorry to tell you – it is empty." He smirked at the three boys, condemning them to three days of being unable to tell anything than the truth and he knew that his Slytherins would make sure that the other students would learn of it too. _

**End flashback**

The classroom had been empty within the minute and he had kept holding the small ghost for several minutes until the rocking and trembling form had calmed down enough to be reasonable and to understand – he was alone in the classroom with him, Snape, his father.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

After that Harry had been really clingy for at least two days, the small ghost form barely leaving his side and he had been lucky that it had been the last class of the week before the weekend so that he had been _able_ keeping the boy close in the privacy of their quarters. Of course he would have liked watching Weasley being questioned by other students, knowing that exactly this would happen, but Harry had been more important to him than Weasley's humiliation, even back then already and he huffed at himself while he watched Harry going over to Draco, giving the blond a shy smile.

He could hear Draco growling a "let's get out of here, it's weekend now" and he was glad that at least this part of Harry being a ghost, his son and re-sorted had gone well, Harry having found very protective friends in Slytherin and his Slytherins having found a very damaged but a very kind and loyal friend as well in this small ghost.

It hadn't taken him much to convince his snakes, Draco as well as the other second year Slytherins and his prefects having already noticed some strange changes in not only Harry Potter – except that one big change of him being a ghost now – and his behaviour lately, but in him, Snape and his new closeness to the Gryffindor boy as well. They rather quickly had accepted Harry in their midst then. It had been a different story with Harry however and he wasn't even able to blame the boy for it.

**Flashback**

_"Do I really have to, sir?" The boy asked and he placed his hand on the still so bony shoulder to reassure his son._

_"You are a part of this house and so – yes, you do have to." He answered, trying to sound as calm as possible and as reassuring as possible. _

_Of course he knew that none of his Slytherins would try anything, that they neither would bully Harry nor that they would hurt him physically. On the contrary – he had seen the curious gazes Draco had thrown at him every now an then lately, and he had noticed the whispers amongst his Slytherins just as well. They were not stupid after all and they knew that something was going on – and that it concerned their head of house and the boy ghost that suddenly was – handled differently by him, Snape._

_Well, they would get their answers tonight._

_"'M scared." The boy admitted and for a moment he frowned. To his knowledge Harry bloody Potter never had been scared and especially not of facing some Slytherins, neither alone nor in the presence of others. "They won't accept me and they … dunno …"_

_Turning he stepped in front of Harry, startling the boy in the process but for now he ignored the flinch the small ghost gave away before he knelt onto one knee in front of his son, grabbing the pale face at the chin so the boy had to look at him._

_"Listen to me." He said. "I do know that you are scared and I do understand your reasoning perfectly. You have been known as a Gryffindor only so far and my Slytherins haven't made it easy for you either. But you are a part of this house and I can promise you – my snakes will give you a chance – if you do give them one as well. Will you do that?"_

_There was no verbal answer, but the boy nodded at him, even if those green eyes still held doubt and even fear. _

_"I do thank you for at least trying." He said and a moment later he stood and continued leading the boy to the Slytherin common room. _

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

_He gave the password openly for Harry to hear and then he entered, leading his son inside, his dark eyes immediately surveying the room and the situation. Some of the second years were sitting near the fireplace, playing a game of gobstones or sorry, the fourth years were sitting over at the tables, writing on an essay and the seventh years – including his prefects – were sitting in another corner, discussing. The third year students were scattered around the common room, reading or whispering to each other, enjoying their time before curfew._

_His fifth years were on their yearly outing with Poppy at the present time and the sixth years were in herbology to study night active plants. The firsties were already in bed, sent in early by him due to them trying to leave their dormitory last night. _

_In other words – those students he wanted here, were here, namely the second and third year students who – except for the first years – would have the most contact with the boy, and his first year students, he would have a word with them separately tomorrow. He also wanted the seventh years, including his prefects here at the present time, seeing that they were his oldest and therefore would keep an eye on any future situation to prevent anything that might arose during the next few days until Harry and his snakes had gotten used to each other while at the same time not all his students were present so that the common room wasn't crowded but rather comfortable at the moment. _

_"A word please." He quietly said, while leading Harry over to the second year students near the fire and waving the other present Slytherins, the fourth and seventh years over. _

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_come here, Harry_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

128 Points - Slytherin

093 Points - Ravenclaw

052 Points - Gryffindor

088 Points - Hufflepuff


	39. come here, Harry!

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

February, 22nd 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_In other words – those students he wanted here, were here, namely the second and third year students who – except for the first years – would have the most contact with the boy, and his first year students, he would have a word with them separately tomorrow. He also wanted the seventh years, including his prefects here at the present time, seeing that they were his oldest and therefore would keep an eye on any future situation to prevent anything that might arose during the next few days until Harry and his snakes had gotten used to each other while at the same time not all his students were present so that the common room wasn't crowded but rather comfortable at the moment. _

_"A word please." He quietly said, while leading Harry over to the second year students near the fire and waving the other present Slytherins, the fourth and seventh years over. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter thirty-nine **

**Come here, Harry**

**Flashback**

_"Sit down. Now – I am sure that many of you already have noticed some changes this year and not all of them are pleasant. One of those unpleasant changes is, that Harry has – to some extend at least – died and his ghost has left his body. A good change at the other hand is that this way I have learned that he actually is not only my son but a Slytherin as well as the sorting hat has placed him in both houses, Slytherin as well as Gryffindor. Any questions so far?" _

_There was a silent pause for some time, his Slytherins looking at him in shock before looking at Harry in just as much shock and then looking at each other while their expressions changed into curious faces. _

_"Yes, sir." Marcus Flint then said, frowning and he inclined his head at the boy. "How can you be sure that the sorting hat has sorted Potter – I mean … Harry … into Slytherin as well as into Gryffindor?" The boy then asked and he again inclined his head. _

_"A very good question, Marcus." He then said, calmly, noticing Harry looking up at him startled at his use of the boy's name. "I of course have had a conversation with the sorting hat just moments ago. And yes, Harry, I do call my students by their given names in privacy. Be assured, Marcus – Harry is as much a Slytherin as are you."_

_"So, what will happen now, uncle Severus?" Draco asked, looking from him to Harry and then back at him. _

_"There we come to the second unpleasant change, Draco." He said, noticing the boy ghost beside him stiffening at Draco's use of "uncle Severus" and he placed a calming hand onto the boy's shoulder. "I am sure that all of you remember what took place only a few days ago during potions." He said, addressing his second years. "And so I am sure that you also do know what had occurred in the Gryffindor tower at the beginning of this school year."_

_They all nodded their heads, even the fourth and seventh years. Well, they of course had heard of it and he knew that they all had been disgusted by what Weasley, Finnigan and Thomas had done. He hadn't been present during the following two or three days as Harry had needed him desperately back then, but not only had he heard many of what had happened during this time in the great hall as well as in the hallways, but he also had seen his snakes' gazes thrown towards the tables of the lions. They were disgusted. _

_"I am sure that you all can imagine that I won't allow Harry being bullied and mistreated by his own house any longer and therefore I have demanded a re-sorting by the headmaster." He answered. "What had led to the knowledge of Harry having been sorted into both houses already, therefore being a Slytherin as well as a Gryffindor."_

_"So, he'll stay here then?" Draco had asked, eying the black haired boy curiously and he could detect some mistrust there even._

_"No." He simply said. "For one – Harry surely is not ready for living in yet another place where he is a stranger. There had been too much going on in his life what however is private until Harry is ready to tell you himself, and I won't leave him alone in a strange place now. He will sleep in his room in my quarters."_

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

_"Will Harry sit at the Slytherin table?" Marcus asked, knowing exactly what his head of house had been not saying and he tried to act as a mediator, asking questions the second years did not seem to dare asking while using Potter's given name so that they could follow his lead and find a way to handle the new situation. _

_"Yes." His head of house said and he nodded. "At least if Harry is amenable with this, but seeing that on his own table he only is shunned – I guess he won't have a problem with sitting at the Slytherin table. Draco, Theodore, I expect you two to take care of his well-being during those meals as well as during classes, are you amenable with this suggestion?"_

_"Yes, sir." Theodore and Draco both agreed and he could see Theodore searching Potter's face and neck for bruises – that easily were found. Yes, of course Theodore would do this upon having one of his classmates in front of him as a ghost suddenly._

_"Harry?" Snape asked and with a frown he noticed that the Professor's dark eyes went soft while he looked over at Potter. So – his head of house not only had taken in the boy because he was his son and because Dumbledore had ordered him, but – Snape really wanted this. He even could feel the protectiveness the professor radiated – as well as the need for protection the boy radiated at the same time._

_"Marcus, I expect you to take care of his well-being and especially of his safety within this common room and his dormitory if he ever chooses living there." Snape said and he nodded his head._

_"Of course, Professor." He said. _

_Well, if Potter was Snape's son, and if Snape was alright with the situation and wanted this – then it was alright with him as well. And seeing that Potter seemed to be a Slytherin anyway – so be it then. He would keep an eye on the boy and the situation. He knew that nothing would happen, generally, the Slytherins kept together, always, but he also knew that there were some in his house who were true followers of the Dark Lord and some of them might plan something to harm the Slythindor. _

_Frowning over his own thoughts he shook his head. He better did not tell Snape about the new name of the two houses forged together he had come up with a moment …_

_"What is it, Marcus?" The Professor asked with his dark and deep voice and he got up his head to look at the man._

_"You wouldn't want to know, Professor." He said, knowing that Snape won't accept a "nothing" but that he would know – it had been a silly thought that was not worth mentioning – or simply private _– _and therefore accept it. Snape could be a very vindictive soul if he needed to be, but he never invaded his student's privacy if it weren't absolutely necessary for their safety and well-being, he always respected their private thoughts without prying deeper._

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

_The Potions Master at the same time nearly huffed at his prefect's openness, as if he hadn't taught his snakes better than being as open as his seventh year prefect was at the present time, really. But well, he better did not ask what exact silly thought the boy had had in his mind this time. He had asked once and the giggles from the others had been more than just irritating. He long ago had ceased asking what silly thoughts his students had on their minds sometimes – it was enough that they were open enough with him to tell him of their wishes, of their fears and of anything that might affect the house, classes or the routine within the castle. _

_"Very well." He said, getting up from the armchair he had been sitting in and he immediately took in Harry's scared expression, the boy clearly fearing that he would let him here alone now. "I am sure that you all have work to do still – or other things than chatting with your head of house and I myself have to colour some of your essays red still." He then said, electing groans from his students and smirking at their misery._

_"Will – Harry stay here for a while?" Draco asked, unsurely, and he frowned. The boy had followed Marcus' lead in using the boy's given name and it clearly was an offer, for the boy ghost to stay if he so wished, but he had noticed the slight hesitancy before he had used Harry's given name. And he now he could feel his son's desperate and pleading look, could feel the green eyes on him, begging him to not leave him here alone, he didn't even have to look over at the boy._

_"As much as I would like Harry getting used to this common room and you in general – I regrettably have to say no as I am sure, he won't be ready for being left alone by me yet." He said, his dark eyes piercing his godson. "I am sure that you do understand …"_

_"But you would rather have me staying here." Soft whisper that came from beside him cut his sentence off and he looked over at his son, the ghostlike face pale, paler than it nowadays was normal for the child, the green eyes again – empty and so very sad that he had to take a deep breath for a moment. _

_Quickly he sat back down onto the armchair and reached out to take the boy's wrist and to pull him closer – just to have his hand going through the ghostlike form, unable to hold him while the boy himself at the same time retreated a step or two and gritting his teeth in frustration he thought he noticed a pattern of the boy's form being – touchable or not touchable. _

_"Come here, Harry." He simply said, waving the boy closer until the ghost stood in front of him and he had to keep himself from reaching out again like he normally would do. "Not in the sense you fear right now. It is important that you get used to your new common room and your new house, and therefore I would like you visiting your house sooner than later – but I also do know that this won't be a possibility right now. It won't be necessary right now either. A few days or weeks won't matter and I won't leave you here alone before you are not ready for this yourself. I will not abandon you, do you hear? I have given you a room in my quarters and you are always welcome there – as are you, Draco." He added, just to kill any misunderstanding from the beginning on. "This room will stay your room, never mind if you live there and visiting your common room, or if you are living here in your common room one day and visiting me. Is that clear, Mr. Snape?"_

**End flashback**

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_it made me going all green_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

137 Points - Slytherin

096 Points - Ravenclaw

054 Points - Gryffindor

092 Points - Hufflepuff


	40. it made me going all green

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

February, 24th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Quickly he sat back down onto the armchair and reached out to take the boy's wrist and to pull him closer – just to have his hand going through the ghostlike form, unable to hold him and gritting his teeth in frustration he thought he noticed a pattern of the boy's form being – a ghost or not a ghost. _

_"Come here, Harry." He simply said, waving the boy closer until the ghost stood in front of him and he had to keep himself from reaching out again like he normally would do. "Not in the sense you fear right now. It is important that you get used to your new common room and your new house, and therefore I would like you visiting your house sooner than later – but I also do know that this won't be a possibility right now. It won't be necessary right now either. A few days or weeks won't matter and I won't leave you here alone before you are not ready for this yourself. I will not abandon you, do you hear? I have given you a room in my quarters and you are always welcome there – as are you, Draco." He added, just to kill any misunderstanding from the beginning on. "This room will stay your room, never mind if you live there and visiting your common room, or if you are living here in your common room one day and visiting me. Is that clear, Mr. Snape?"_

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter forty **

**It made me going all green**

Well, the startled nod he had received from Harry had been satisfying – contraire to the boy throwing himself at him moments later _– _ in front of half the Slytherin house! How typically Gryffindor he couldn't help thinking while he had brought his arms around the small form, not minding the Slytherins watching them as it was his Slytherins to begin with and they knew this private side of him since long anyways while he at the same time was simply glad to being able to suddenly grip the child physically again.

"I do understand your need for distance as well as your need for safety – but your body becoming unseizable whenever you are scared or disappointed is annoying." He had said while holding the child. "I do need the ability to touch my own son. Imagine there is a dangerous situation I need to get you away from!"

"'M a ghost." The boy had murmured into his shoulder. "Can't die 'gain."

"You are not completely dead yet, Harry." He had answered. "Or your body would be dead completely and your ghost form would be translucent and unseizable completely. And therefore I am sure that – yes, you _could_ die."

"'M not doing this on purpose." The boy then had said, trying to defend himself.

"And I did not say you did either." He had been shaking his head. "But I am sure that you can learn having a bit more control over your form. I take it you are alright now? Seeing that I can touch you and seeing that you are physically clinging to me like a primate?"

He simply had stood, the boy still in his arms and with an inclining of his head towards his Slytherins he had left their common room, Harry still clinging to him with a nearly death like grip, and then he had taken the child home, wondering if maybe the reason as to why he could touch the child was not because he was his father but because the boy wanted it this way? Even if just unconsciously? But why would Harry want him, _him_ alone being able to touch him from the beginning? In the beginning the child had had no reason to trust him or to long for any kind of comfort from him!

On the other hand – Harry had known that he had been his father from the beginning, and sighing in defeat he had entered his parlour.

The day after the boy had worried about the Slytherins witnessing his utter childlike behaviour from the evening before, being carried home by Snape, a second year! But he immediately had disabused him of that foolish thought, had told him that he wasn't the first of his snakes he carried out of their common room.

"Remember what I have told you." He had said. "Many of them are in a similar situation and none of them will hold it against you."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry, entering their quarters early, got him out of his thoughts and he frowned at the boy that trudged into the parlour with his shoulders slumped – a moment later he was out of his seat and over to the ghost, reaching out to brush hair from a bleeding cut on the pale forehead – just to have his son rearing back and his fingers brushing air while the ghost-like form wavered before coming solid again.

"'M sorry." The boy murmured, averting his eyes and he reached out a second time, slower this time.

"There is no need to be, Harry." He softly said. "It is I who has to apologize for startling you. What happened?" He then asked his hand able to touch the boy's face now and he brushed some of the black fringes away to reveal a nasty cut.

"'M fell." The boy said while being led to the sofa.

"Lay down." He said, while already pushing the boy down and then summoning a cloth and wet it with his wand. "Do you feel dizzy?" He then asked.

"No … a bit … maybe." The boy answered – and a moment later already shot up, starting to retch and he was just in time of summoning a bucket when the boy lost what he'd had for breakfast earlier.

"A bit, of course." He drawled while he cleaned the boy's face and then summoned a glass of water. "Drink." He then ordered. "I will give you a potion to calm your stomach but first I will have to look at this cut on your head and run a diagnostic. How did you fall?" He then asked while cleaning the area around the cut.

The boy shrugged his shoulders.

"You have been in defence, theoretically." He then said. "What happened there?"

"'Ve been hit by a spell." The boy murmured, barely audible. "Then I fell."

"What kind of spell?" He asked, frowning. So – the child could be hit with spells too. It would have been very advantageously if he had been unaffected by spells as well as by the touch of other persons except of him.

"Dunno, but it made me going all green and it hurt." The boy said and he stopped his movements mid-air for a moment, his dark eyes fixed intently on the boy ghost, on his son, before continuing to clean out the cut, calling for his house elf. A moment later the small creature popped in from his manor, startling Harry who apparently never before had seen a house elf.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"I need you to inform Madam Pomfrey of an avada having been cast at Harry's ghost form." He quietly said, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. "She will have to look after his actual form and watch him during the next hours. I will be there with Harry shortly. Please do inform me immediately of the body's condition."

Zilly quickly nodded his head and then vanished while Harry looked up at him, startled. So – the boy had not known that it had been the killing curse being cast at him, in other words – it had been a silent spell what only left Lockhart as possible caster.

"Who had cast the spell at you, Harry?" He then asked, covering the cut with a healing salve.

"Lock_– _… Professor Lockhart." The boy answered, quietly, the nearly translucent face being as white as a piece of chalk.

"I thought so." He said. "I want you to stay flat here for a while, you look like dropping any moment. How came it that Lockhart cast this spell on you?"

"He said he'd had to deal with a ghost once." The boy murmured and he actually could _watch_ the body going penetrably again, his need for being untouchable too overwhelming. "'Nd he said a spell wouldn' work an' to prove it, he had me coming to the front and then cast the spell."

"This bloody incapable and idiot man!" He growled, causing the boy to look up at him startled. "I will have his head for this – and I will have his head for the fact that he had not brought you to the infirmary immediately as well, not to mention leaving you walking here _alone_. _Anything_ could have happened on your way here!"

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry didn't understand.

He had seen Snape angry before, but never had he seen him _so_ angry! Never had he seen him going so pale and pacing the room like a tiger in a cage and he had the feeling that his father would explode at any moment. Was that what was normal behaviour for a father whose son had been subjected to a spell that could kill? Was this what it felt like, having someone who cared and got all worried and angry on his behalf?

If this was what was normal and what was meant to happen – then this definitely was the best feeling he'd ever had in his life.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The Potions Master could see the mixture of pure bliss and pure terror radiating from his son and as angry as he was, he could understand the battle that was going on within the child that was savouring the feeling of someone caring enough to get angry on his behalf while he at the same time was scared by him.

Taking a deep breath he turned towards the boy.

"Are you ready to visit the infirmary?" He then asked. "And yes, it is necessary." He added at the boy that was clearly starting to declare that he was fine and that a visit to the infirmary surely was not necessary. "A lethal spell has been cast at you, one of the unforgivables, and ghost or not ghost, seeing that it is already the second time you have been subjected to this particular spell, I do want you in the infirmary for a closer check up and for keeping an eye on you during the next forty-eight hours. Not to mention that I need to have an eye on your body just as well. In other words – I need the two of you together for this as I won't be able hurrying to and fro between the infirmary and your room here. I do not even understand how this blasted and incompetent imbecile that is your defence teacher could have you running through the castle instead of bringing you to the infirmary immediately!"

Noticing that he again started losing his composure, he closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down again.

"Come now." He said, extending his hand but not even trying to touch the boy and take his arm, knowing that he wouldn't be able to right now. Harry clearly was completely a ghost at the present time, untouchable, while he worried about his son's body, seeing that Zilly had not come back yet to inform him of the condition of his son who was in the infirmary.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_I cannot lose him now again_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

141 Points - Slytherin

097 Points - Ravenclaw

056 Points - Gryffindor

096 Points - Hufflepuff


	41. I cannot lose him now again

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

February, 26nd 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"Are you ready to visit the infirmary?" He then asked. "And yes, it is necessary." He added at the boy that was clearly starting to declare that he was fine and that a visit to the infirmary surely was not necessary. "A lethal spell has been cast upon you, one of the unforgivables, and ghost or not ghost, seeing that it is already the second time you have been subjected to this particular spell, I do want you in the infirmary for a closer check up and for keeping an eye on you during the next forty-eight hours. Not to mention that I need to have an eye on your body just as well. In other words – I need the two of you together for this as I won't be able hurrying to and fro between the infirmary and your room here. I do not even understand how this blasted and incompetent imbecile that is your defence teacher could have you running through the castle instead of not bringing you to the infirmary immediately!"_

_Noticing that he again started losing his composure, he closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down again. _

_"Come now." He said, extending his hand but not even trying to touch the boy and take his arm, knowing that he wouldn't be able to. Harry clearly was completely a ghost at the present time, untouchable, while he worried about his son's body, seeing that Zilly had not come back yet to inform him of the condition of his son who was in the infirmary. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter forty-one **

**I cannot lose him now again**

The way to the infirmary had been anything than funny.

The child had started swaying halfway up the stairs from the dungeons and still he hadn't been able to touch Harry – so the only thing he had been able to do had been, well, telling the boy to take a seat at the stairs and to rest every now and then, seeing that he had been unable to steady him, let alone carrying him, and in the end it nearly had taken them an hour to reach the infirmary, Poppy already looking up at him worriedly the moment they entered.

"Sit down on this bed, Harry." He said, pointing at the boy's bed. He definitely would add a sign to it one day, declaring it as his son's! "How is Harry's body?" He then asked of Poppy, wondering why Zilly had not come back to inform him of anything.

"I do not know." Poppy said. "I have sent Zilly to St. Mungos to get a healer, Severus, and we only can hope that they will send one soon."

He quickly nodded his head while casting a quick glance at his son's ghost form, making sure that the boy was alright before he concentrated onto the still form that was his son's body.

The small and thin form still was not moving except for a slight trembling that had overtaken the body, but the pale face had gone as white as was the face from his son's ghost form and he clearly could see that the boy's breathing was irregular and too quick. He looked over at the monitoring and frowned at the much too quick heartbeat.

"I have already given him a calming draught." Poppy whispered.

"Add a pain reliever." He calmly said. "Harry has told me that he was in pain after the spell had been cast. Are you still dizzy, Harry?" He then asked, turning back to the boy, but he didn't get an answer and sighing he watched his son's scared face for a few seconds before getting a calming draught and reaching it towards the ghost – who took it and downed it without even questioning what it was he was ingesting, a fact that told him enough.

"Lay down and try to sleep." He said, gently trying to push the ghost form down before pulling back his hand when he couldn't succeed, and then taking off the boy's shoes and Jeans before he took the blanket from the foot of the bed and spread it over his son. Or over one of his sons, practically.

What a mess, really!

A moment later the ghost slept already and he extended his hand, gently trying to touch the pale and clammy forehead, noticing with some sort of relief that he finally could. This definitely had been the longest time Harry had stayed in this untouchable form and he worried. Would he always be like this when he was upset and scared? What would happen if the boy next time decided to stay in this form? How could he keep him safe then if he couldn't touch him? Looking over at his son's body he noticed that this form was calming down as well, his level of unconsciousness becoming deeper and his heartbeat becoming slower.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Professor Snape?" A deep and calm voice came from the doorway, accompanied by a soft knock on the doorframe.

"Yes?" He asked, turning and looking over at the newcomer, a man in his mid ages, short blond hair, bright blue eyes, a pale face – he could have been mistaken for a Malfoy on first sight if it weren't for his knowledge that there was no such man in the Malfoy family.

"Andrew Weed." The man answered, slowly entering the room. "I'm from St. Mungos."

"You have experiences with ghosts having left their bodies?" He asked, scowling at the man who smiled.

"No one has, I fear." The healer answered. "There only ever has been one whose son has split spirit and body before actual death after all, Nathaniel Detmold, and his son has been killed by his brother before he could find a solution. Yes, I have read the book and yes, I have concentrated my work on ghosts generally."

"Zilly has told you about the spell, healer Weed?" He asked, frowning.

"Yes, he has mentioned it." Weed answered. "But I doubt that the boy's body has been affected by it. To affect a body, a spell has to hit it and it has not been hit."

"His ghost form has been hit." Severus growled.

"Yes, but as he is a ghost, he could not be killed by the spell." The healer said. "I guess he has been affected in form of feeling the spell?"

"He said he went green and was in pain." The Potions Master said, his voice sounding strangely hollow and for a moment the implication of the situation hit him full force. "What made me believe that it was the avada he has been hit with."

"That would be a correct belief." Weed said, reaching a vial at him. "I suggest you sit down, Professor Snape, and take a calming potion, it is one of your own you have supplied St. Mungos with."

"He's been dizzy and threw up the moment he laid down." He said after he had taken the potion and actually felt better a bit. "He said he fell and he had a bleeding cut on his forehead."

"I doubt that this had been caused by the spell but rather by hitting his head when he fell." Weed said. "Did you check for a concussion?"

"Not yet." The Potions Master said, drawing his wand and turning to the boy ghost. "It has taken us nearly an hour to get here as Harry didn't feel well but I have been unable to touch and steady or carry him."

"You normally are able touching him?" Weed asked, with a frown while drawing his own wand and casting some of his own diagnostics at both boys.

"If he so allows." Snape answered, frowning back. "Yes, there is a concussion. He does not allow me to touch him still whenever he feels unsure, scared or disappointed in one way or another and Lockhart, the – _teacher_ – for defence against the dark arts, telling the class that he'd already had dealings with ghosts before and therefore knowing that a spell wouldn't work – implying that Harry could be a dark creature with his words, and then even using an unforgivable to prove it, I guess that does fall under at least one of these categories if not all."

"Yes, I am sure it does." Weed said, narrowing his eyes on him. "The child has been abused." He then accused.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Yes." Severus answered, knowing what the healer was saying. "Harry has been living with his aunt and uncle until November first this year when he came back to Hogwarts – as a ghost. I have gone to Privet Drive to get his body and then Madam Pomfrey and I did what was possible for him to survive."

"He won't survive much longer without his ghost back in his body." Weed said, following his gaze towards the boy ghost. "And without his body here, the ghost will have no anchor – anything could happen then."

"Nathaniel Detmold has been planning on trying a combination of a potion and a spell, and he has been sure that it would have worked if his brother had not killed his son's body." He softly said.

"This boy is your son?" The healer asked.

"Yes." He simply said.

"Are you really ready to risk what is left of your son's life?" The healer asked, looking at him seriously and he sighed.

"No." He answered. "But what other choice do I have? There won't be much time left. A few days maybe, a few weeks at the best, and then his body will be gone, dead. And with it his spirit will die – or go insane without his anchor, because he has left his body before the actual death. I have lost him eleven years ago – I cannot lose him now again."

"If he won't survive the spell and the potion, then you _will_ lose him." The blasted man softly said, reminding him of the risk, the idiot!

"I _do_ know this!" He hissed, turning at the man sharply. "Do you not think that I know the risks? Do you not think that I lay awake during the nights and considering all the risks and do you not think that I would do anything else if there were anything else left to be done? I would give my life if I …" Turning back to the window sharply he stopped mid-sentence.

How had those words come over his lips?

Would he really be ready to give his life if he could safe the boy's life in his actions?

Immediately he knew that the answer to this was – yes. Yes, he would give his life without thinking over it twice if he could safe his son's life with it. He would do anything to keep the child alive and yes, he had not lied – he couldn't lose the child a second time. He didn't even question his strange thoughts and emotions anymore, because he knew that it simply was this way. Since his memories had come back, he slowly but surely had started bonding with the child anew and now – he was back where he had been eleven years ago just with the exception that right now he had been thrown into it from one day to the other. And suddenly he knew why Harry allowed him to touch his ghost form while he allowed that to no one else, knew it without a spark of doubt – Harry had bonded with him already before _he_, Snape, had known who he was, he already had bonded with him in his first year, despite him being mean and ill spirited towards the child, because the boy had known that he was his father.

"Healer Weed?" Came another voice from the doorway and looking up he could see Kingsley Shacklebolt standing there, the auror frowning at them.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_How considerate of you  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

146 Points - Slytherin

101 Points - Ravenclaw

059 Points - Gryffindor

098 Points - Hufflepuff


	42. how considerate of you

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

February, 28th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Immediately he knew that the answer to this was – yes. Yes, he would give his life without thinking over it twice if he could safe his son's life with it. He would do anything to keep the child alive and yes, he had not lied – he couldn't lose the child a second time. He didn't even question his strange thoughts and emotions anymore, because he knew that it simply was this way. Since his memories had come back, he slowly but surely had started bonding with the child and now – he was back where he had been eleven years ago just with the exception that right now he had been thrown into it from one day to the other. And suddenly he knew why Harry allowed him to touch his ghost form while he allowed that to no one else, knew it without a spark of doubt – Harry had bonded with him already before he had known who he was, he already had bonded with him in his first year, despite him being mean and ill spirited towards the child. _

_"Healer Weed?" Came another voice from the doorway and looking up he could see Kingsley Shacklebolt standing there, the auror frowning at them._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter forty-two **

**How considerate of you**

"That is me." The healer said, turning towards the auror.

"You have called an Auror?" The Potions Master asked in confusion.

"An unforgivable has been cast." Weed said, frowning at him and Severus took a deep breath, knowing that the healer was right. He would not have acted differently. "It is my duty to call the aurors upon an unforgivable having been cast, especially as it has been the avada cast at a child no less and during a school lesson held by a teacher."

"My apologies." He said. "I wouldn't have acted differently, I however do request that my son is not to be questioned. He has had enough on his shoulders lately."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"I heard there was an unforgivable cast at Hogwarts, the killing curse?" Shacklebolt carefully asked, clearly not ready to make a clear statement and accidentally accuse someone of something now before he didn't have more information and it was clear to Severus why the auror acted that way.

Any other auror maybe would have immediately accused him, Severus Snape, for having done that particular deed, for having killed a student, but Shacklebolt knew that he was a spy for the order and so he was careful for now even if he might not trust him completely.

"Yes." He said, taking a step towards the other man before Weed could say something, his dark eyes cold and hard like solid steel for a moment. He wouldn't allow Weed to take the upper hand, because Harry was his son, his responsibility and he would handle the situation, not Weed. "Yes the avada has been cast at Harry Potter, during defence against the dark arts and by the resident defence teacher."

"That is not you." Shacklebolt chuckled at him and he lifted his eyebrow but immediately understood the auror's intention, namely to lighten the situation in stating that he knew it hadn't been him, Snape. "Where is Lockhart right now?"

"Still in the defence classroom, I guess, as I did not have the time to report him to the headmaster. My first priority has been to bring my son here and that was already difficult enough."

There was a pause during which Shacklebolt looked at him startled, his face a blank mask, but then the man inclined his head towards him and he had not only the impression that the man wanted to show him – he accepted his words – but that he also wanted to show him – as strange as it was – respect.

"What exactly happened?" The man then asked, addressing clearly him.

"According to Harry, Lockhart boosted himself with having had to deal with ghosts before and knowing that an unforgivable wouldn't harm a ghost." He told the auror what he knew. "And to prove it, he cast the killing curse at him. It didn't kill him of course, seeing that he is a ghost, but he definitely is affected. It has weakened his already dying form and it has caused him pain. It _could_ have killed him even, no one knows what could happen when it comes to ghosts! This man is simply incapable and the spell he used is still an unforgivable."

"I know, Snape, and don't worry, I'll take him to the ministry to question him." Shacklebolt said, casting a long glance at both children, the ghost and the body before he looked back at him. "And don't worry, Snape, for now I won't need the boy to give a statement – I'll examine Lockhart's wand and I'll have a look at his memories. The boy only will have to answer questions the moment the trials open."

And with those words Shacklebolt already stormed off.

Well, for once there would be justice and Lockhart would pay for his mistake.

How could he have been so idiotic and to cast an unforgivable of all curses at someone, even if a ghost! It was forbidden and it was forbidden for a reason after all!

Turning back to the child in bed he cursed the idiot chickenhawk, the situation and the headmaster while he hoped, for the first time since a long time hoped, that everything would go well and that his son somehow would survive.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It was in the middle of the night when the double winged door opened and none other than Albus Dumbledore came in, causing him to scowl at the old headmaster.

"How is the boy?" The man asked and his scowl deepened.

"It has taken you remarkable long until you have a look at the student that has been hit with an unforgivable in your school and by one of your teachers, Dumbledore." He growled darkly, unimpressed by the man's displayed worry. "What kept you? Another artefact from a friend of yours you have to hide in the castle? Or is it the fact that Harry is a ghost now and cannot fulfil your prophecy anymore?"

"Severus, you are angry, and rightfully so as you're the boy's –"

"You are right, headmaster." He growled, getting off the chair he was sitting in so that he could show the headmaster the exit. He didn't wish to have the boy being awakened by their quarrelling, that wasn't worth it, the child needed its rest. "I am Harry's father and so the boy has someone already looking after him, he doesn't need you anymore here and I suggest you leave. If you wish for any information then you either wait until my son is awake and ready to give them or you go to the ministry where the auror office already has questioned Lockhart."

Well – if this was no heave-ho and if the blasted old coot didn't understand, then he didn't know what would, honestly! But well, why should he be the lucky one for once? Of course he wouldn't have such a luck!  
>"Severus, I'm sure that you are overestimating." The old man said the moment they had reached the doors. "Surely you wouldn't go as far as accusing me of knowingly harming a student in –"<p>

"I already did, headmaster, and you would know if you had listened to what I've said just a moment ago." He growled. "I simply expect you to leave my son alone. You neither will have any say in his future nor will you have to look after him ever again."

"As you wish, Severus." The headmaster said, making a sad face and he wondered how a Gryffindor could be such a good actor – but well, it was Albus Dumbledore after all, the greatest wizard of all times – of course he was such a good actor. "I just wished –"

"If Harry dies, then you have been responsible for his death in more than one ways. You have killed him by placing him with the Dursleys and you have killed him by neglecting to look after him for eleven years. You have killed him by appointing Lockhart of all people the defence against the dark arts teacher and you have attempted to kill him by having him, a student, a child, going after that blasted stone last year."

"Severus! Surely you –"

"As Harry's father I enjoin you to mess with him ever again." He hissed angrily. "Good night, headmaster." He then said, turning and not even looking back at the old man to make sure that he had left – he simply would ward the area where his son lay.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It was barely an hour later when the door to the hospital wing opened a second time and he lifted his head, his eyes narrowed at the double winged wooden doors and ready to insult the blasted old man for even more crimes he had done during the past years. He'd had enough time to think over it since he was sitting here beside Harry's bed after all.

It wasn't however Dumbledore this time, but two identical faces, the Weasley twins, and he scowled. What was it with those blasted Gryffindors always roaming the castle?

"What are the two of you doing here in the middle of the night?" He asked, trying to keep his voice soft enough so that he wouldn't wake his son but at the same time having his scolding tone so that the Weasley twins knew – he was not impressed by their actions.

"Sorry, didn't want to disturb you." One of them said, also keeping his voice soft.

"But we'd like visiting Harry." The other one added.

"I take it you are aware of the fact that it is in the middle of the night, Gentlemen?" He drawled, his dark eyes going from one to the other, noticing the armful of sweets in George Weasley's arms and the toilet seat in Frederic Weasley's arms.

"Sure." George said, shrugging his shoulders and nearly losing a box with chocolate frogs in the progress. "But we thought that he might have slept at first after the spell and after he had fallen too."

"He'd hit his head very badly after all."

"Draco had sneaked out of Lockhart's class as soon as possible."

"To go to your office and to inform you."

"But he came back and said you'd already left for the infirmary."

"And so we thought that you've brought Harry here."

"And knowing Pomfrey, that he'd been asleep shortly after."

"And so we thought we'd come later."

"To bring him sweets and a toilet seat, how considerate of you that you bring him something he can use when being ill after he has devoured all those sweets."

"Thank you, sir." Both of them said, clearly proud of his words that they – foolishly – took as praise.  
>But well – they were Gryffindors, but they were still on Harry's side, seeing that they took the risk of sneaking through the castle – even if he wasn't so sure that they took the risk as seriously as did he, seeing that they were Gryffindors to begin with – and they had brought sweets – and a toilet seat – for his son.<p>

"I won't allow the toilet seat." He growled at them. "But I'll allow the sweets. Come here then, seeing that you are already here anyway." He then added while at the same time drawing his wand and banishing the toilet seat where it belonged to, ignoring the startled and disappointed gaze from Frederic.

"So – his body is really here." George Weasley said after he had stepped closer and could see the child's body laying in the bed beside his ghost form.

"I told you so." Frederic shrugged his shoulders. "Anything else wouldn't make sense."

"What will happen now?" They both asked at the same time, both Weasleys looking up at him, not mischief in their eyes like there normally would be, but concern and maybe it was this concern that showed the Potions Master – those two meant it, they still were Harry's friends, never mind what.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_I take it this is your essay  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

151 Points - Slytherin

107 Points - Ravenclaw

061 Points - Gryffindor

101 Points - Hufflepuff


	43. I take it this is your essay, Harry?

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

March, 2nd 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"I won't allow the toilet seat." He growled at them. "But I'll allow the sweets. Come here then, seeing that you are already here anyway." He then added while at the same time drawing his wand and banishing the toilet seat where it belonged to, ignoring the startled and disappointed gaze from Frederic. _

_"So – his body is really here." George Weasley said after he had stepped closer and could see the child's body laying in the bed beside his ghost form. _

_"I told you so." Frederic shrugged his shoulders. "Anything else wouldn't make sense."_

_"What will happen now?" They both asked at the same time, both Weasleys looking up at him, not mischief in their eyes like there normally would be, but concern and maybe it was this concern that showed the Potions Master – those two meant it, they still were Harry's friends, never mind what._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter forty-three **

**I take it this is your essay, Harry?**

Frederic and George Weasley had been sitting with Harry for half an hour before he had shoed them out of the hospital wing and back to their tower, accompanying them through the corridors in the middle of the night. Surely _not_ so that they wouldn't get into trouble if anyone caught them roaming the castle after curfew and in the middle of the night actually, and surely _not_ to show them his gratitude for still caring about Harry either but to make sure that they would really go back to their blasted tower only!

He was Severus Snape, the evil dungeons bat and surely he wouldn't accompany anyone to make sure that they wouldn't be in trouble if caught!

_'But you DO know that those two had taken that risk just to visit your son, you idiot!'_ A small voice in the back of his mind whispered and as badly as he wished this voice to be wrong or at least to be not right – he knew that it was absolutely correct. Those two _had_ sneaked into the infirmary in the middle of the night just to visit his son, and he _was_ happy to know that the child had still friends within the house of the lions, and so he would _not_ condemn them to detention.

Oh – he had given them detention, he was a teacher at this school after all and he was bound to punish them, and so he of course had given them detention, but well, he simply would brew one potion or another with them, something that they would have fun with, he knew that.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Sighing Harry snuggled deeper into the warmth his blankets provided, wondering why his father always came in during the night to cover him with a second blanket. But well – he was glad for it, because during the night the fire went off and in the morning it was cold in his chamber. Severus had his house elf coming in after he woke to start the fire anew, but getting out of bed and leaving his warm nest, it was a battle each morning and Severus even had to have come in once, asking him if he wasn't up yet. He'd gotten ready real quickly back then, hoping that he wouldn't be in too much trouble.

He hadn't been, back then, but he always had been in so much trouble if he hadn't gotten up quickly back with the Dursleys and the shiver that had run down his spine had not been from the cold on this morning after his father had left his room, but from fear.

"Oh well …" He muttered, throwing the covers back and shivering in the cold. He was now living in a dungeon after all and so of course it would be cold here. And he was living with Snape now and so of course he would have to get used to Snape's ways. And he knew that Snape would not beat him.

At least he hoped so.

Going to his dresser, he pulled out a pair of dark blue Jeans and a long-sleeved black hoodie with a small green and red dragon on the chest and the same dragon in large on the back. The dragon was moving threateningly, dangerously growling at any people who just looked at it, as if they tried to steal its treasure and breathing fire at them – until in the end it shyly turned and secretly revealed its treasure, a dark brown teddy bear with bright brown paws and black beetle eyes.

He'd seen the hoodie a few days ago and he had laughed at the image when it had finished displaying itself before beginning anew, but he had not dared to ask his father for it and he hadn't had a chance to go to Gringotts to get some money – not to mention that he hadn't had a clue how to get to Diagon Alley alone. But on Saturday last week the hoodie had been laying there on the foot of his bed. And since then it definitely was his new favourite cloth ever!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Severus Snape was sitting in his favourite armchair in his quarters, near the fire and waiting for Harry to emerge from his room, waiting for Harry that was the ghost, because Harry that was the body still would not be able to do anything than laying in bed.

It had been a bit of a struggle after those two days he'd had the boy down in the infirmary so that he could keep an eye on both of his sons – despite that healer Weed had said it wouldn't be necessary, he had stayed with the two boys anyway, and he had done it by free will, he had to admit that.

However, after those two days he first had asked the castle to expand his quarters and then he had added another room to them, next to Harry's room actually and the boy ghost had hovered around him excitedly, nervously and frightened to some extend. Of course the boy had known _why_ he would expand his quarters and add a room to them, he had told him the reason after all, and the child had been excited and scared at the same time, barely able to sit still – or to stand still – for at least half a minute and at one point he even had found the ghost form sitting up there at one of his bookshelves because he had floated up there in his excitement, looking down at him startled and not daring to move up there or to come down by himself. In the end he'd had to lean a ladder at the shelf to climb up there and to get the boy down, the small arms clinging to him in a death like grip – again – as he still was not daring to cast spells upon the child to get him down, so close after the avada that had been cast at the boy.

After that he had taken Harry's body to the room he had added to his quarters, the boy ghost hovering close behind him and watching while he carried the boy's body from the infirmary to his new room.

Never mind what, he would have his son close. Never mind if he would die before they could do anything, and never mind how long Harry would stay in this condition, never mind if he would survive – he would have him close and he would have both the boys together.

Of course he only did this because for him it was easier to have a close eye on both boys this way. He first was sitting with his son's ghost until the boy had found sleep and after that he was sitting with his son's body, not knowing if but hoping that he gave a bit of comfort to what- or where ever the child was. And even Harry – during the first day he had found the boy standing in the doorway to his body's room more than once, peering inside in a mixture of curiosity and fear, sometimes even tripping from one foot to the other nervously or casting nervous glances at him, Snape, as if asking for help in what to do.

Later he had seen him actually entering the room for a short moment und approaching his body and he couldn't help hoping – maybe Harry would now go back into his body? He seemed curious and he seemed to look for closeness, to be near his body after all. Maybe he should have taken the boy's body to his quarters sooner already? Had he made a mistake here in not doing so?

Never mind what, he let the boy doing so, let him alone and let him making his own experiences with his own body that now didn't look bloody anymore like when the child last had seen his body, laying in that cupboard, while he was hoping for the best and simply watching the situation.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry emerging from his own room got him out of his thoughts and looking over at the boy he lifted his eyebrow before shaking his head, the boy wearing one of the Jeans he had bought him during their outing to Diagon Alley and the hoodie he had ordered from Gladrag later. He'd noticed the boy looking at the hoodie while they'd been to Gladrag's, but he hadn't thought much of it during their shopping, his only goal back then had been to get Harry through the event, out of the shop and back to Hogwarts _before_ the boy had a mental breakdown.

But he had remembered the longing gaze later, after he had graded one of the boy's latest potions essays.

**Flashback**

_"Harry." He called when the boy crossed his desk to leave the classroom and the ghost stopped, turned back to the Potions Master and waited until the rest of the students had left while the teacher continued grading papers. The moment the classroom was empty he looked up at the boy and then frowned at the nervousness the small ghost form displayed. But then he shoved this information away for later inspection and addressed the boy, because he needed answers._

_And he needed them desperately._

_"I take it, this is your essay, Harry?" He then asked, taking one of the parchments from his desk and reaching over the essay he had handed back to the students today, to all of them actually, except for Harry, Weasley and Granger at least. He had kept them back and he had ignored all of their curious and unsure gazes._

_"Yes, sir." Harry answered, clearly confused and clearly scared as well, most likely remembering other situations during which he'd been standing in front of his desk._

_"Wherefrom exactly did you gain the information needed for this essay?" He then asked, for now ignoring the boy being scared. He needed answers to a question that had crossed his mind already after he had graded the second years' last essays. _

_"In books I've borrowed from the library, sir." Harry answered after a moment of hesitancy but he didn't sound hesitant when he gave the answer, his voice clearly telling that he didn't understand the question – and that he even was a bit disappointed in being questioned by his father about the essay he had written and where he had taken the information he would need for this essay from as he – and rightfully so – noticed that he was questioned about having cheated._

_"Would you be as kind as to pointing out which books from, you gathered the information containing this essay, please?" He then asked, still ignoring the boy's hurt and scared appearance. _

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

_Confused, but clearly hurt Harry took out a pencil and started underlining parts of the essay and writing down which books he had consulted for his work, while his father continued grading the essays he'd been working on before, knowing what the man thought. Snape thought he had cheated, and he nearly cried with disappointment. _

_There he was, finally having a family, finally having someone who cared, finally having that what he always had wanted and then – puff, it was gone like everything always was gone because Snape didn't trust him. Because Snape clearly had learned meanwhile how bad he was, not trustworthy and that uncle Vernon surely had been right all the time – he had to be punished. _

_And nevertheless – it hurt, because he had not cheated._

_After having written down the last book he had borrowed from the library for his essay, he put away the quill and then – _

_"Thank you, that was all for now, Harry." Snape then said. "You may go."_

_"You think I have cheated." _

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_you are wrong here, child_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

155 Points - Slytherin

112 Points - Ravenclaw

065 Points - Gryffindor

106 Points - Hufflepuff


	44. you are wrong here, child

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

March, 4th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Confused, but clearly hurt Harry took out a pencil and started underlining parts of the essay and writing down which books he had consulted for his work, while his father continued grading the essays he'd been working on before, knowing what the man thought. Snape thought he had cheated, and he nearly cried with disappointment. _

_There he was, finally having a family, finally having someone who cared, finally having that what he always had wanted and then – puff, it was gone like everything always was gone because Snape didn't trust him. Because Snape clearly had learned meanwhile how bad he was, not trustworthy and that uncle Vernon surely had been right all the time – he had to be punished. _

_And nevertheless – it hurt, because he had not cheated._

_After having written down the last book he had borrowed from the library for his essay, he put away the quill and then – _

_"Thank you, that was all for now, Harry." Snape then said. "You may go."_

_"You think I have cheated." _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter forty-four **

**You are wrong here, child**

_"You think I have cheated." The boy said before he turned, looking at him with hurt eyes that were filled with unshed tears and spoke of disappointment, of frustration and of – acceptance. _

_It was this acceptance that caused the Potions Master to take a deep breath._

_"Sit down, Harry." He said, placing his current work aside to take his son's essay._

_"'S ok." The boy said, his voice nearly choking and he shrugged as if waving it off. _

_"No, it is not _– _'ok' and maybe I should have chosen other words." He said, trying to keep his patience. "I fear that I have to get used to this new situation as much as you and I apologize for having hurt you. And now do sit down please. I guess I do not have to read over the books you have pointed out as their titles are known to me already. I simply have held back your essay – together with Mr. Weasleys and Miss Granger's, because I have noticed a few strange things about your essays lately and I would like to clarify them. Do not take me wrong Harry, I just want to make absolutely sure." _

_"'K, sir." The boy murmured, still looking defeated and miserable. _

_"So, you are sure that this particular essay has been written by you?" He asked, his dark eyes on the boy but trying to look – and sound – reassuring. It wasn't the boy's fault after all, he was sure of that by now and he cursed himself for having brought it up to begin with. Well, he would go through it for now and then he would make it up to the boy. _

_"Yes, sir." Harry quietly answered, still not looking at him but at the floor._

_"If this essay has been written by you, Harry, then it means that these essays here have been written by you as well." He said, taking a stack of potions essays that all held Harry's name and placing them in front of the boy, of his son, watching him closely. There was no answer, but he didn't need an answer. It was clear now that all these essays had been written by Harry._

_"If these essays however have been written by you, then it means that Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley have copied them as their exact wording in each essay is the same, sentence for sentence." He finally said, leaning back in his chair and locking his dark eyes with the green ones of his son."And Mr. Weasley's essay hasn't even been copied by hand, but by magic."  
><em>

_"You thought I had cheated." Harry once more accused him, again – or still – his green eyes hurt._

_"Actually – yes, Harry." He sighed. "I have thought so last year, until you have handed in your first essay since your seperation with Weasley and Granger, and even if I by then already have guessed that it has not been Granger's essays but yours, after I have read the last essays, I nevertheless had to check my theory by having you pointing out the books you have taken your information from and I actually am sure by now that this particular essay here indeed has been written by you as not only have you been the only one of you three able to point out the correct books but also did underline which parts of the essays you have taken from said books, sometimes even naming the chapter. And like I have said, if this particular essay has been written by you, then that means that all your essays from first year have been written by you as well and then have been copied by Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley."_

_There again was no answer, but again Snape didn't need an answer._

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

_"And therefore I not only apologize for this particular situation here in which I have questioned you, but I also do apologize for grading your essays unfairly in the past while you deserved better for an outstanding work as I have been under the misconception that Miss Granger had done all the work while Mr. Weasley and you had only copied her essays. Why have you never complained about getting a T in your written potions work while Miss Granger who – I am sure you knew – handed in the exact copy had gained at least an A if not an O for the exact same work?"_

_"Wouldn' have made a difference, sir." The boy ghost said, again shrugging his shoulders._

_"What do you mean, it wouldn't have made a difference?" Severus asked frowning at the boy. "It of course would have made a difference, and a big one! There is an entire spectrum of marks between a T and an O after all and instead of being one of the worst students in my class you easily could have been one of the best students in my class as the marks for your written essays take fifty percent of your OWL and nearly all of them had been an outstanding. You easily could have gained an Outstanding in your Owls last year instead of the Poor you actually got."_

_"They're marks, what are they good for?" The boy asked, his voice quiet and he knew – there never had been someone who would have incited the boy to do better as there never had been someone who had cared. On the contrary – the boy had been punished if he had done better than his cousin. _

_"I do know, Harry, that neither your aunt nor your uncle would have cared, but maybe it would have made your teachers proud of you?" He then asked, his voice as quiet as the boy's voice had been and he suddenly knew that – despite the dislike he had felt towards Harry last year, he nevertheless would have been able to feel proud at the idiot child if he had managed an outstanding. _

_"For being proud at someone, one has to care, sir." Harry simply replied with a frightening straight logic. "And so – no, it wouldn't have made a difference."_

_"You are wrong here, child." Snape quietly said. "Because actually I would have cared."_

**End flashback**

Well, the boy still had been hurt somehow, but he had understood and in the end he had ordered lunch into his classroom where they had been sitting together, eating and talking. At least Harry in the end had understood why he'd _had_ to ask him and he afterwards had changed Harry's mark from last year from a P to an O while he had summoned Miss Granger's file to change her potions OWL from an O to the P she had deserved, but Harry had stopped him.

"Please not." The boy had said and he had frowned at the small ghost that was sitting opposite him.

"Why not?" He had asked, curiously. "It only would be the deserved mark and seeing that I do not understand why an intelligent girl like Miss Granger would have to cheat – do you have an explanation to that, Harry?"

"Guess so." The boy had said, shyly and he had narrowed his eyes at the child.

"And that would be?" He had asked when there had been no answer.

"Well … you see, Hermione's parents are both dentists." The child had started to explain. "They have a medical job and in the wizarding world you need potions for becoming a real healer. Not so for simply becoming a medic witch or something like that, but for becoming a healer, you need potions, but potions is a subject where you can't rely on books only but need intuition also and Hermione always relys on books only, she doesn't know how to listen to her intuition and so she was so scared that she would fail because then her parents would be so disappointed in her. She's just been afraid."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"He's been crying last night." Harry said, carefully sitting down in one corner of the sofa and pulling up his knees, running the tip of his forefinger over the small dragon on his chest, getting him, Snape, out of his thoughts and he smiled at the boy being so fond of that particular hoodie.

He had told Harry that he would change Miss Granger's mark to an A instead of the P she would have deserved, and the boy had accepted it, even if he had not looked happy.

"The wizarding OWL and NEWT system is subdivided in two classes." He'd said, trying to explain his reasoning to the boy so that he understood. "There is no middle field, they are either good or bad marks and I am sure that you do know that the first three marks, namely 'outstanding', 'exceeds expectations' and 'acceptable' actually are good marks while 'poor', 'dreadful' and 'troll' are the bad marks. And while Miss Granger would deserve a 'poor' at the best for cheating, and nothing else it was if she has copied her work from you, the 'acceptable' I will give her is still one of the good marks that will allow her to not only get better but to having a chance of getting an apprenticeship or job in later years that requires the subject potions."

The boy had accepted his words and in the evening they had been alright again.

"I know." He answered, concentrating onto the presence and summoning a cup of hot chocolate from the kitchen, as had become a standard meanwhile, him, ordering a cup of hot chocolate for Harry first thing in the morning and summoning it the moment the boy left his room. "He has been laying uncomfortably for a too long time and I haven't noticed. Of course he had started crying at one point or another."

Later in the week he had sent an owl to Gladrag and he had ordered that particular hoodie Harry had watched with bright green eyes when they had been there, and seeing that Gladrag still had the boy's measures – it hadn't been any troubles. Saturday after that the hoodie had arrived early in the morning and he had placed it onto the boy's bed while he'd been in the shower – and well, since then the child only had taken it off for bed and for the piece of cloth being washed.

"How can he be in pain while I'm not there?" Harry asked, not understanding.

"I cannot answer you this question, Harry." He answered. "You are not supposed to being able touching things and yet you can – while your body is not required feeling pain and yet, it is. I guess that it has to do with you simply having left your body _before_ it has died actually, something that rarely ever has been done, and so both, you and your body, are acting not like you should."

"Will it get better when we do this potions-and-spell-thing?" The boy asked, his voice scared.

"If the spell and the potion work like they should, then yes." He answered. "Then your body will have a chance to survive and to heal while you will continue on in your current form. There will be two of you, one physical Harry and one ghostly Harry, but both of you will life as separated and independent boys. But you also do know the risks, Harry."

"Know." The boy agreed, curling in on the sofa and pressing his hands at the warm porcelain from the cup. "But – I've never had a family and now I have one and I don' wanna lose this and … and … I just never had something to really live for and now I have and … and now I don' wanna die and … dunno …"

Unable to watch the ghost child's misery any longer he went over to the sofa and pulled the small form into his arms, carding his fingers through the black hair.

"Stop this infuriating rambling of yours, you foolish child, I _do_ know what you mean and I do understand your wish." He softly said. "But what if you wouldn't survive it? I do not care about two of you or one of you being here, and neither do I care if it is you as a ghost form or you as a physical form, but I wouldn't be able going on if I lost you a second time."

"But he won't survive if I don't … and I don' wanna … and if he dies then I could as well or vanish or anything … healer Weed said so." The boy stammered, murmured, close to tears again and he tightened his grip he had on the child, on his son.

"I know." He softly answered. "And therefore I do not dismiss the thought completely, but I refuse following this way before I absolutely have to take this risk."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_but it could be  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

168 Points - Slytherin

123 Points - Ravenclaw

071 Points - Gryffindor

110 Points - Hufflepuff


	45. but it could be

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

March, 6th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Unable to watch the ghost child's misery any longer he went over to the sofa and pulled the small form into his arms, carding his fingers through the black hair. _

_"I do know what you mean, Harry, and I do understand your wish." He softly said. "But what if you wouldn't survive it? I do not care about two of you or one of you being here, and neither do I care if it is you as a ghost form or you as a physical form, but I wouldn't be able going on if I lost you a second time."_

_"But he won't survive if I don't … and I don' wanna … and if he dies then I could as well or vanish or anything … healer Weed said so." The boy stammered, murmured, close to tears again and he tightened his grip he had on the child, on his son._

_"I know." He softly answered. "And therefore I do not dismiss the thought completely, but I refuse to do so before I absolutely have to take this risk."_

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter forty-five **

**But it could be**

"How is you homework coming along?" Severus asked when Harry came into the living room in their quarters.

"It's done." Harry answered, clearly uncomfortable and the words 'o_h, please, don't let him want to see it' _were written over the boy's face in large red letters.

"Get it, please, I would like to have a look at it." He said, knowing that he just had destroyed all of Harry's hopes and sullenly, the boy ghost went over to his room and gave Severus his essay a moment later after emerging with a pale face, causing the Potions Master to frown. Without saying anything, he drew the chair away from the table, indicating that Harry should sit down and the boy did, letting his head hanging and clearly waiting for the scolding. Well – yes, he always had been scolding the boy for his work, why should he assume that it would be different now?

His frown deepening he looked down onto the barely legible handwriting that was his son's, not for the first time considering a few hours of writing exercises with ink and quill, and he started to read.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

'_The potions book said that in the year 1971 the ministry of magic wanted to declare any de-ageing potion as a forbidden substance because of its dangers, but that they refrained from actually bringing up this particular law as many witches and wizards had reacted with protests at the declaration, some pure blood wizarding families even threatening the ministry of magic with withdrawing any support in future if the decree was brought up. _

_I personally do not understand how they could have been against this law so vehemently. _

_The benefit of a de-ageing potion clearly might be that one could make him- or herself younger than they actually were and therefore might increase their lives or make themselves younger to undo an illness that otherwise might be life-threatening, while at the same time they maybe could de-age themselves to a point where they could make one or another aftermath of an accident or similar undone if they reverted to an age before that. _

_Clearly a benefit that is worth thinking about if it could safe a life and while the de-ageing potion does not pertain any poisoning or dangerous substance to begin with, it definitely might seem that those benefits are all right and the potion should be classified as not dangerous and therefore allowed. _

_On the other hand however, the de-ageing potion easily can be misused to increasing one's live to a lifespan that is simply unethical or to mask as a person they are not to play pranks, to do crimes while taking the antidote afterwards so it can't be proved and I am sure that there are many other possibilities to misuse this potion which I have not thought of yet._

_The worst part of this potion however, I think is its use to revert back to an age before something might have happened that had an effect on a person like having had a bad childhood. _

_Imagine a teen having had a bad childhood and taking the potion to revert back to an age before that had happened. If he weren't out of the situation by then, it only would repeat itself, but while being younger, maybe too young to defend himself, the situation only would become worse and maybe even life threatening because the adults around him only would be unnerved by having the teen back to a child they had to endure in their household for longer now._

_Even if the teen was out of the situation by then and the de-ageing potion given by a caring adult – it wouldn't be a perfect and absolute constant solution either, because the person that now cares could easily stop caring too and leaving behind a child that is de-aged and defenceless, maybe even unable to care for himself while he would have been able to at least care for himself without the de-ageing potion having been used if the now caring person had abandoned him as a teen instead of as a child._

_Even if the administering of that particular kind of potion had been allowed by the ministry only in some exceptional cases if the need for it could be explained to the ministry plausibly – it wouldn't make it any better, because the ministry cannot know about the new guardian always caring as not even they can predict the future._

_One now might say that the ministry of magic could demand a wizard's oath of them to always care for their children then, but one: an emotion cannot be suppressed and if you hate someone, you simply hate him and can't help yourself in showing your hate. And second: even if the person always will care – he could die and leave the child behind. _

_And who would by free will go through a bad childhood a second time while he could have been an adult already by that time?' _

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He didn't have to ask the boy why he had written those words, why his line of thoughts went into this particular direction or how he felt about not only this essay, the potion but about him self and the situation they were in.

"You do not trust in me enough to believe I would not either revert back to disliking you nor to abandoning you one day." He simply stated, not even making an attempt of forming it into a question.

He didn't get an answer – and he hadn't expected one either.

"Is this the reason as to why you do not wish going back into your body?" He then asked, plainly. "Because you think that – I have started caring when you have become a ghost and if you are not a ghost anymore then I would stop caring about you?"

Again he didn't get an answer, the boy ghost only shrugging his shoulders and averting his eyes – and he knew, he was right. It was so easy, why hadn't he thought about this earlier? He even had _known_ that the boy only would go back into his body if he felt safe enough for doing so and he even had _known_ that he would have to help the boy in feeling safe. He had told exactly those words to Minerva already. How had he not believed his own words? How had he not seen them?

He had started caring about the boy when he had become a ghost – of course the child would now try to remain as a ghost because he feared – as he had started caring when he had become a ghost, he would stop caring when he stopped being a ghost! He had been so very stupid!

"Life only can be understood if you look back, while it only can be lived while you look ahead." He said, placing the boy's essay at the table and pulling the boy close instead. "You have had enough opportunities to look back and learn to understand life, I fear that you do understand life better than any child your age should, even better than old and wise Dumbledore. Maybe it now is time you start looking ahead and living your life, even if it means taking risks, especially the risk of trusting someone. You are right and I of course could revert back to disliking you, yes, but tell me a logical reason as to why exactly I should do that as I have seen behind your mask now and have seen the real child you are."

"Don't know." The boy answered, his voice hesitant and soft while his green eyes looked up at him pleadingly, as if to say – please make me being wrong. "But it could be."

"Of course it could be." Snape answered, leaning back in his armchair and pulling the boy ghost, his son with him. "But also it could be that the world ends tomorrow, that I will wear a red cloak the day after tomorrow or that you will have blond hair next week. It could be that I die one day, but it either could be that I will live even longer than you. It could be that it snows tomorrow and it could be that tomorrow there will be sunshine. No one can know, Harry, and living means to take risks. I know –" He said, lifting his hand when the child opened his mouth with a look on his face as if he felt ill. "– that you have taken risks in the past and I also know that they most of the times have ended badly, but you have learned to understand life enough and there is no need for you to look back. In your future however, I will be at your side and I will help you in your decisions of which risks to take. And I will be here to make sure that your risks are worth to be taken. If only you allow me."

"Can't." The boy choked out. "I just can't. 'M sorry … I …"

"Hush, child." He said, pulling the boy's head close and securing it against his shoulder with his free hand. "We still have a few days, I guess. And even if you still cannot take this risk and trust me by then – we will deal with it when it comes to that." He said, knowing that never mind what, his son was already too damaged to ever trust anyone in his life ever again – not even him, maybe especially not even him. "But never mind what you yourself believe, child – you do deserve life more than any other child here at Hogwarts, you deserve so much more than you had, you deserve the world!"

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_in the morning - sir  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

172 Points - Slytherin

123 Points - Ravenclaw

074 Points - Gryffindor

112 Points - Hufflepuff


	46. in the morning, sir?

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 8th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"In your future however, I will be on your side and I will help you in your decisions of which risks to take. And I will be here to make sure that your risks are worth to be taken. If only you allow me."_

_"Can't." The boy choked out. "I just can't. 'M sorry …I …"_

_"Hush, child." He said, pulling the boy's head close and securing it against his shoulder with his free hand. "We still have a few days, I guess. And even if you still cannot take this risk and trust me by then – we will deal with it then." He said, knowing that never mind what, his son was already too damaged to ever trust anyone in his life ever again – not even him, maybe especially not even him. "But never mind what you yourself believe, child – you do deserve life more than any other child here at Hogwarts, you deserve so much more than you had, you deserve the world!"_

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter forty-six **

**In the morning, sir?**

"Are you coming, Harry?" Hermione asked him after history and he frowned. Since when was Hermione so nice with him again? She'd openly read his privates thoughts to the Gryffindor common room and she hadn't talked to him in days, in weeks actually by now, and now she was – out of the blue – asking him if he would come to the great hall for lunch?

"Leave him alone, Granger." Draco growled. "He isn't your toy anymore to be bossed around."

"And what's it with you, Malfoy?" Ron asked, not even looking at him, Harry, but already going against Draco to defend Hermione and he didn't understand, didn't know to read the situation, didn't know Ron's motivations – nor Hermione's. "Potter the ghost isn't your toy either, so leave Hermione alone!"

"Aren't even able to call your friend by his given name anymore, are you, Weasel?" Draco asked and suddenly Harry couldn't help his arms going around his stomach – because he knew, Draco was right. Ron was calling him Potter the ghost, not Harry. He always had called him Harry, all last year, and now he was – Potter the ghost.

"Just excuse me, please." He murmured, feeling ill and feeling like crying, feeling his stomach churning and turning and he tightened his arms he had around his midsection. "'M not feeling well … stomach ache …"

And with a sharp twist he turned – just to bump into a black hooded figure and looking up he made out the form of his father, of Professor Snape, the Potions Master of Hogwarts. Could he ever have any luck when he needed it? The dark eyes of the older wizard seemed to pierce him for a moment and he could feel himself leaning forwards just the moment the man's hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Ghosts can have stomach aches?" Ron asked stupidly and he couldn't help flinching at the question that clearly showed – his friend still didn't … understand … or was alright with it … or something like that.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Severus glowered at the red head when he felt his son flinching, tightening his grip he had on the child's shoulder. Of course he had been startled the moment the boy had leaned his head against his chest in a bout of – weakness, never mind if it was physical or mental weakness, he didn't mind, in front of his friends and even before he had placed his hand onto the boy's shoulder, having just extended his hand for doing so, and he pulled the boy's head closer against his chest with his other hand.

"I suggest you close Mr. Weasley's mouth for him, Miss Granger, he will catch flies that way." He said, glaring coldly at the youngest Weasley before he turned and led the boy out of the hallway and down the corridor, his hand firmly on the still so skeletal shoulder in a tight grip that not only was steadying the small ghost form but that also gave him a sense of security.

"Lay down." He said, leading the child to the sofa and the fact that the boy did so without the slightest protest told him enough. "I will be back in a moment." He added and then went to the kitchen to get a calming draught and something to eat.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry meanwhile was sitting at the sofa in front of the fireplace, Indian-style, and he took one of the maroon coloured pillows from the side, hugging it closely to his chest while he bent forwards. What the fucking hell was wrong with him? Telling Ron and Hermione that he didn't feel well? And then breaking down in front of them and leaning against Snape? In front of any students that might have watched in the midst of the hallway that led to the great hall? And shortly before dinner where surely most of them were on their way to the great hall for lunch? So that all could see his weakness? So that all could see that he was a weak and cowardice and useless, a worthless freak? So that everyone could …

'_But what about what Snape had said _…' Harry took a deep breath at that thought, most of his attention still on what had happened just moments ago in the midst of the hallway. '_Snape thinks I deserve the world. If only he hadn't been lying.'_

He smiled for a moment at the bitter knowledge that it wasn't true. It really was funny how the mind could make one believe their own lies and Snape clearly seemed to believe what he had told him yesterday evening, that he deserved the world.

He nearly had believed it too, in this particular moment, for a second – nearly. He would like believing it so, so very much, but he couldn't. He couldn't believe it, because he knew that – he didn't deserve the world. He didn't deserve so much of what his father provided him with, all this caring and all this time and affection and a room and clothes and – and so much other things. And surely he didn't deserve Snape either!

And therefore he just didn't understand!

Why would …

"I do suggest that you stop tearing yourself apart and eat something to get your system back to normalcy." His father said, coming back from the kitchen with two plates and a vial, and he took a deep breath.

"'M not hungry." He murmured. "And my stomach hurts" He then added what wasn't actually a lie because he still had that churning feeling in his stomach that was hurting.

"What is the reason as to why I have brought you a stomach calming potion to take first." Snape said and he sighed. He didn't want the man's care, because he knew that he didn't deserve it and he knew that his father would see it one day too, like his uncle had seen. He …

"What is it I will have to do to make you see, Harry?" The deep voice of the older wizard asked and when he looked up at the man he could see him sitting at the coffee table in front of the sofa.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Standing there and watching the child for a moment he exactly knew what his son was thinking and – and not for the first time – he cursed the Dursleys. They not only had killed the child, but they also had destroyed him before killing him, and they had destroyed him to such an extend – he knew that he wouldn't be able to undo what had been done.

Harry believed, _really_ believed, that he did not deserve anything he gave him, including himself, his time and his care.

"What is it I will have to do to make you see, Harry?" He asked, sitting down onto the edge of the table and placing the two plates with the sandwiches onto the table beside him. "Why do you doubt me so much? Give me one reason as to why you would not deserve any of this?"

"'Cause 'm bad." The boy murmured, the small voice so sad and ashamed, he knew that the child believed his own words and he had a hard time not closing his eyes in pure frustration.

"Why would you be bad?" He asked instead of following his first impulse and telling the boy that he wasn't bad to begin with, because he knew that the child wouldn't believe his words anyway.

"Dunno." Harry answered, shrugging his shoulders and Severus forced himself to not snap at the boy impatiently.

"If you state that you are bad, what you have done, then there has to be a reason and I would like to know this reason." He said, forcing himself to stay calm. "Now."

"Dunno!" The boy repeated, sounding more forceful. "'Cause I'm lazy and 'cause I'm ungrateful and 'cause I'm insolent! My aunt and uncle have learned that pretty soon and 'm sure you'll learn too! An' then you'll just know how bad I am and you'll leave then!"

"When exactly have you been lazy?" He asked, rather hissed at the boy in order to keep himself from simply pulling the idiot child close and never ever letting him go again. There was so very, very much this child needed to catch up with, he even could sense the deep need for physical comfort. "An answer, Harry!" He hissed out between clenched teeth, startling Harry who looked up at him with frightened green eyes.

"At home, sir." The boy ghost answered after a moment. "Privet Drive … haven' done my chores there, an' neither my homework."

"Which had been?" He asked, lifting his eyebrow. "Your chores, I mean as I do know what had been your homework. What chores did you not do?"

"Haven't mowed the lawn on one day. Sir." The boy said, averting his eyes. "An' 'nother day haven't painted the shed. An then it's 'nly gotten worse. Haven't done much then."

"And tell me, young man, what exactly had been your chores within this household _generally_, as I am sure that mowing the lawn and painting the shed had not been daily chores." He wanted to know, nearly seething. While mowing the lawns surely could be a chore a twelve year old could do – painting a shed surely was not. At least it was not a chore a twelve year old child could do alone and surely not under the threat of being punished if he wouldn't manage.

"In the morning? Sir?" Harry asked, clearly trying to sound innocent and he took a deep breath, knowing that the boy only tried to stall for time.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_I won't go away  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

175 Points - Slytherin

124 Points - Ravenclaw

077 Points - Gryffindor

113 Points - Hufflepuff


	47. I won't go away

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

March, 10th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"At home, sir." The boy ghost answered after a moment. "Privet Drive … haven' done my chores there, an' neither my homework."_

_"Which had been?" He asked, lifting his eyebrow. "Your chores, I mean as I do know what had been your homework. What chores did you not do?"_

_"Haven't mowed the lawn on one day. Sir." The boy said, averting his eyes. "An' 'nother day haven't painted the shed. An then it's 'nly gotten worse. Haven't done much then."_

_"And tell me, young man, what exactly had been your chores within this household generally as I am sure that mowing the lawn and painting the shed had not been daily chores." He wanted to know, nearly seething. While mowing the laws surely could be a chore a twelve year old could do – painting a shed surely was not. At least it was not a chore a twelve year old child could do alone and surely not under the threat of being punished if he wouldn't manage._

_"In the morning? Sir?" Harry asked, clearly trying to sound innocent and he took a deep breath, knowing that the boy only tried to stall for time._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter forty-seven **

**I won't go away**

"Well, yes – lets begin with those chores in the morning then." He said, not able to keep his sarcasm out of his voice.

"Well, making breakfast, and then cleaning the kitchen and Dudley's rooms, sir." The boy quietly answered.

"And after that?" He asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest to keep himself from shaking the idiot child. Preparing breakfast and cleaning the kitchen plus cleaning up his cousin's rooms surely had already been more than enough daily chores for a twelve year old added to keeping his own room clean and – mowing the lawn or painting a shed.

Not to mention that he understood the boy's words of "Dudley's rooms" instead of "Dudley's room", the cousin having more than one room while he, Harry, had not even had one but had to live in a cupboard.

"Doin' lunch while gettin' the livin' room clean, the hall an' the bathroom, an' then the kitchen again 'cause of the cooking. Sir." The boy answered, still looking anywhere but him and still in a voice that sounded small and ashamed.

"I take it that after those you should have done the lane and the shed." He drawled, his eyebrow lifted at the pre-teen while he had to keep himself from snapping at the boy for yet another 'sir' – but he knew, now was not the time for that.

"Yes, sir." The boy softly answered, barely audible anymore.

"Do not tell me that it had not been your chore to prepare dinner and to clean the kitchen after that again." He couldn't help drawling before he took a deep breath – which he held a moment later at the child's next whispered words.

"Had been, sir."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Getting off the table and closing his eyes for a moment he released his breath he had been holding and then took another deep breath before he re-opened his eyes.

"You idiot child!" He then hissed while leaning close to the boy whose eyes went as large as saucers. "You utterly foolish and idiot child! What chores do you think Mr. Weasley has to do at home?"

"Dunno, sir, but surely he's to do things too." The boy answered and he frowned.

"What kind of things?" He asked.

"I don't know, sir." Harry answered, looking desperate. "I don't know, I've never asked him."

"What kind of chores do you think Miss Granger has to do at home?" He then asked, his frown deepening.

"I don't know, sir." The boy again answered.

"Do you know the kind of chores of _any_ other child?" He then asked, his eyes narrowed and he sighed in frustration when the boy only shook his head. Merlin! How should Harry know what an adequate amount of chores for a child his age would be if he never had the chance to draw a comparison.

"Then let me assure you – no child, _absolutely – no – child_ – is forced to do nowhere near the amount of chores you have been forced to do!" He then growled at the boy. "Pick one or two – and _only_ one or two – of those chores and then you have the daily chores of any other normal twelve year old. So do not tell me that you have been lazy at your relatives' house! Let's get us to the accusation of being insolent then. When have you been insolent?"

"Dunno! Sir!" The boy answered, nearly shouted, clearly close to a panic attack by now and a moment later he actually had to grasp the boy's thin wrists when he tried to pull at his shirt, as if he didn't get enough air into his lungs.

"If you do not know when you have been insolent, then how is it you take this claim?" He asked, not ready to provide the much needed comfort right now. He had to make the child see finally first.

"D'nno … 'unl V'non said." The boy said, choked out, trying to get his hands free, to pull at the front of his shirt while he took large and gasping breathes.

"And let me guess, boy – your uncle also told you that you are – ungrateful?" He asked still keeping the boy's wrists in his hand while leaning closer.

"Yessir!" The child gave away in a choked scream. "'M s'rry sir."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Taking another deep breath he sat onto the sofa beside the child and pulled his son close, actually pulled the small ghost body on his lap, more than just relived that he still could touch the ghostlike child, considering the amount of fear and terror his son was in – he had what he had wanted.

"Calm down, Harry." He said while pulling the child's head close and pressing his face against his chest to minimize the flow of oxygen. "Take slow and calm breathes, you won't suffocate … and you won't drown either, Harry, I have you, child … easy! Count to three between each breath you take … hush now, I am here … and I won't let go of you, I promise, I won't abandon you …"

Because he knew that this was the boy's greatest fear.

"No, Harry … calm breathes!" He softly said while running his free hand up and down the bony spine. "You are safe here with me and you always will be … I won't go away … that's much better, child. And now tell me, have I ever lied to you?"

The boy only shook his head, but it was enough for the Potions Master at the present time.

"Good." He said. "So, do you believe me if I tell you that no child has to do so many chores? Do you believe me if I tell you that a child has to do one or two of those chores you had to do in this household?"

This time the boy nodded, without giving an answer still, but again it was enough for the older wizard.

"Good." He said again. "So we can cancel the lazy part. And now tell me, has your uncle ever lied to you? And your aunt?"

This time the boy nodded both times, and he, Snape, he gave a nod himself, he had known that the boy would answer with any form of affirmation.

"Good." He once more said. "Then if your uncle has lied to you once, and if you only have your uncle's accusation about being ungrateful and insolent, do you not think that he might have been lying about this as well? And it is your uncle's accusation only as I do say that you are neither ungrateful nor insolent and we just a moment ago agreed that I have never lied to you. Do you see my pint?"

Again – a nod.

"Good." He said, getting calmer when he noticed that the boy got calmer and actually listened to him. "Now, if you are neither lazy nor ungrateful and surely not insolent – then I take it that even _you_ see, you cannot be a bad child, or is there anything else?"

A shaking of the boy's head now, together with a strangled sob at the realisation that his, Snape's, words had to be true and that he therefore could be no bad boy and that – as he could be not a bad boy, he surely would not have to be punished the way he had been by his uncle. It had to be a realization that had to tear him apart, the pain of this new betrayal surely hitting the twelve year old full force – and he pressed the child's small body even closer against his chest, securing the child's shaking form in a strong grip.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in – The boy that forgot to die**

_And there is nothing …_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

182 Points - Slytherin

143 Points - Ravenclaw

082 Points - Gryffindor

115 Points - Hufflepuff


	48. and there is nothing

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

March, 12th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"Do you see my pint?"_

_Again – a nod._

_"Good." He said, getting calmer when he noticed that the boy got calmer and actually listened to him. "Now, if you are neither lazy nor ungrateful and surely not insolent – then I take it that even you see, you cannot be a bad child, or is there anything else?"_

_A shaking of the boy's head now, together with a strangled sob at the realisation that his, Snape's, words had to be true and that he therefore could be no bad boy and that – as he could be not a bad boy, he surely would not have to be punished the way he had been by his uncle. It had to be a realization that had to tear him apart, the pain of this new betrayal surely hitting the twelve year old full force – and he pressed the child's small body even closer against his chest, securing the child's shaking form in a strong grip. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter forty-eight **

**And there is nothing …**

And finally, the boy had seen reason.

Not during this afternoon, surely not as he had cried himself to sleep and this time it hadn't been the boy's usual soft sobs, barely audible, barely noticeable except for the shaking of those thin shoulders, but this time it had been the loud and attention seeking wails of any child that simply was in too much pain to bear it alone, of any child that simply needed comfort to ease the tearing pain that threatened to eat his emotions away.

He hadn't said much then, because there hadn't been anything anymore he could have said, he just had sat there and he just had held the child, had rocked the child softly and had run his fingers through the boy's hair while he had held the small form as closely against his own chest as possible without causing the fragile form physical pain. Even if he was sure that the boy wouldn't have cared about any physical pain back then, would maybe even have welcomed it at that time as he had been in too much _emotional_ pain, but he surely would not show the child down this particular road.

Later in the evening he had been able to get the boy to eat dinner, even if Harry clearly ate less than he had managed eating by then normally, as little as this already was. And then they quietly had talked. A bit only, but they had talked before Harry again had cried himself to sleep, calmer this time, his sobs not as heart wrenching anymore than those in the afternoon had been, and for the first time since he was here in his dungeons, the boy had been sleeping through the night in his deep exhaustion without any nightmares.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

But they had talked the next morning again.

And by then Harry had been able to admit that – yes, Snape's logic seemed plausible and that – yes, he couldn't have been that bad. He still didn't admit that he wasn't bad at _all_ and that he never had deserved those – _punishments_ – but he at least started to see that he wasn't _that_ bad and the Potions Master was satisfied with the direction the situation took by now.

As a result Harry also had admitted that – maybe – he might deserve some of the attention and care he got from the older wizard that was his father, but he at least was ready to admit that he deserved to have him, Snape, his father, to begin with. And that was more than the Potions Master had hoped for in the beginning. Anything else – the boy would learn and they would be able to deal with.

If only they had more time, he thought wearily while he threw a blanket over the small ghost that was laying on the sofa. The child was startling tired and exhausted still after his attack last night and he couldn't help being worried. So – yes, if only they had more time, because he knew – the more exhausted the child was, the sooner his actual body could die and they desperately needed a solution before that, before the next few days.

**Flashback**

_"Are you sure?" Poppy asked, her fingers trembling and he could understand the woman being upset as he himself had to hold something in his hands by now to keep them steady – or at least as steady as possible._

_Blasted boy! Making an emotional idiot of him._

_"Yes." Healer Weed said, taking a deep breath._

_"Severus?" Poppy asked him for clarification and he nodded, unable to form spoken words at the moment but nevertheless agreeing to Weed's words. _

_"How long?" Poppy then asked._

_"I'm not entirely sure about that, but I guess three or four days, maybe five if we're lucky." The healer from St. Mungos quietly said. _

_"And there is nothing …" Poppy gasped, getting off her chair. She clearly had not thought that it would happen so soon and he had to admit that he himself had hoped for more time. _

_It was five weeks after the new term had started, five weeks after Harry had come to live with him, or at least in his dungeons, five weeks after they had known – Harry was his son. It was five weeks only … _

_And now he had not even another week left. _

_Not even another week. Three days, four maybe, five if they were lucky! _

_And still, there was not the slightest sign of Harry being ready to go back into his own body. _

**End flashback**

This had been a discussion between them held by yesterday morning before Harry had woken, and now it wasn't even afternoon and the small ghost had fallen asleep on the sofa again. Yesterday morning, and now it was the afternoon of the next day, of another day – and it was one day left, it was two days to go, three days maybe, for days if they were lucky.

Gently running his fingers through that black hair he sighed.

What bliss ignorance could be sometimes.

There had been times, especially during the past twenty-four hours, he wished he could just fall back into blaming the boy for all his little troubles like he had done last year, but then he met those big, green emerald eyes, saw that small and shy smile that the boy had started regarding him with, barely visible, barely noticable, but that had become brighter a bit and larger a bit as the days and weeks had passed, and something within him … gave way.

And it really only did give way, because it definitely had _not_ caused him to soften!

Because he did not soften!

He was Severus Snape, Death Eater and a spy that only feignedly played the part of a teacher, he was the dark and cold, horrible dungeons bat, the Master of the student's misery and the bringer of hysteric tears for the first year students and even nature itself trembled and held its breath at his passing gait alone! No – Severus Snape did not soften! Anything than such a thing! He – at the very best – allowed, and even that only reluctantly, his normally rigid heart to give, in regards to that particular boy.

Getting off the edge of the bed he took a deep breath and went to the kitchen.

He knew what he had to do if Harry had not gone back into his body by the next two days, even if he didn't like it, even if he wasn't really ready to take those risks, playing with his son's life, but he knew that he had no other chance than taking this risk, because if he did nothing, then the boy would die without a question even, and soon, too soon.

Crossing the kitchen he took another deep breath before he opened the door that led down into a deeper part of the castle even, that went down into his private potions laboratory, the stairs stony boulders hewed out of the rocky ground itself, thousands and thousands of years ago, maybe even before this castle had been built by the founders.

His mind wasn't on the masterpiece of architecture however, but on the potions he had been brewing just a few nights ago during the last full moon – the potions that either could save his son's life – or take it away.

Stepping into the dark and cool stony area that was his private laboratory he approached the shelf with the potions bottles he needed without hesitation.

In the end it was a potion that consisted of several basic potions actually, one of them being a potion to keep ghosts alive, another being a potion to create a temporarily copy of any living being, as he needed a copy of the ghost who would take the actual ghost's form within Harry's body, and a third potion that would allow the boy's body to accept a copy of his ghost form instead of the actual ghost that belonged to it. Again another potion was to change the temporary ghost into a permanent one as Harry's body would die the moment the temporary body would vanish. And last but not least – a potion that would allow the copy of the boy's ghost to grow together with the body after it had formed the symbiosis.

And spells in between to fix each step.

There was no potion that would allow the boy's actual ghost to grow, Harry ghost always would be the twelve year old child he was now, there was nothing he could do about that, but he would live – at least as long as his body lived – and that was enough for him at the moment, he could deal with having a twelve year old son for the reminder of his life. There wasn't anything he could do about it anyway and he would deal with where to place the ghost child when he, Snape, would die one day.

Taking one of the bottles he swirled its contents within, checking the colour and the consistency before he opened the small vial and then smelled it. Placing his finger at the small opening he dipped the tiny bottle and then brought his finger to his lips, allowing his tongue to shortly come in contact with the potion, tasting its bitterness before he sealed the vial and then placed it in a small crate.

He checked each of the potion bottles the same way, double checked them and made sure that they were securely sealed before he packed them into the small crate, using straw to keep the bottles from knocking together and then he put the lid on the small crate, carried the small wooden box upstairs carefully, knowing that he held his son's life in his hands.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_Alright – bed at seven_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

185 Points - Slytherin

150 Points - Ravenclaw

086 Points - Gryffindor

117 Points - Hufflepuff


	49. alright – bed at seven

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

March, 14th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Taking one of the bottles he swirled its contents within, checking the colour and the consistency before he opened the small vial and then smelled it. Placing his finger at the small opening he dipped the tiny bottle and then brought his finger to his lips, allowing his tongue to shortly come in contact with the potion, tasting its bitterness before he sealed the vial and then placed it in a small crate._

_He checked each of the potion bottles the same way, double checked them and made sure that they were securely sealed before he packed them into the small crate, using straw to keep the bottles from knocking together and then he put the lid on the small crate, carried the small wooden box upstairs carefully, knowing that he held his son's life in his hands. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter forty-nine **

**Alright – bed at seven**

He always was very careful with his potions vials, knowing not only how valuable some of them were but how lethal as well some of them could be, but he was extra careful with those particular vials. If just one of them were to be destroyed – it would condemn his son to death. For them to work, he needed each of those five potions or it wouldn't work at all and he couldn't brew them again in time as they only could be brewed during the full moon or they would be useless just as well.

He still wasn't sure if he really should go down this particular road, if he really should take those risks.

The potion that would keep Harry's ghost alive, it was deathly for any physical forms, only meant for ghosts, one of the very few potions actually that ever had been invented for ghosts even as they normally didn't become ill or unwell. It was possible for them though, as rare as it was, but no one ever had thought of inventing potions for ghosts for them to feel better if they felt unwell or were ill. There wasn't even a potion against depressions for ghosts, a rather startling thought, considering that they were rather often depressed to begin with.

However – that particular potion was lethal for any physical form to take and Harry was not entirely ghost after all. It easily could kill him, not to mention that he didn't know what the combination of those potions would do in the small and weak body that was his son's. They had never been used and tested before after all, seeing that Nathaniel Detmold's son had been killed before they could have been used.

'_Who fights might lose – but who does not fight, has already lost.'_ A strangely known voice whispered, telling him that it was worth fighting against the Dark Lord, telling him that it was worth that maybe they might lose friends, family or their own life as long as they fought to begin with, because if they didn't fight, then they already had lost, namely their freedom and their free will, and for a moment he was so sure that it was Lily's voice, Lily's voice not sounding within his head, within his memories, but coming from his kitchen he meanwhile had re-entered and he actually looked around.

Of course there was no Lily sitting in his kitchen, only he himself was present, standing there in the middle of the room, holding the grate with the potions that could condemn of save his son in his arms – and taking a deep breath, still remembering, he closed his eyes for a moment before he crossed the kitchen and then entered his living room where still the boy ghost was laying on the sofa, sleeping, small shoulders rising and falling regularly and placing the wooden crate with those potions that would decide on life and death of his son onto the table he sat down onto the edge of the sofa to watch the child's sleep, to run his fingertips lightly over the pale face.

Why was it that he felt so deeply? Why was it that he was so sad and so angry at the same time? Merlin! He had back his son and now the child would be taken from him just weeks after he had learned to know him? He knew that he deserved it, that he deserved it to lose the only thing that seemed important to him right now, after all that he had done in past years, after taking the dark mark, after following the Dark Lord, after partaking in torturing so many of the Dark Lord's victims, even after he had become a spy. He deserved everything he now got, the fear, the worry, the sadness, the anger, the misery over losing the child that was his son. He didn't deserve having a son, he didn't deserve having a child on his own! Never!

But Harry!

This child didn't deserve to die!

This child didn't deserve to lose the newly gained family!

Harry had done nothing! Harry was only an innocent child that had done absolutely nothing, neither to deserve what he already had been through in his short life, nor what he had coming soon. Harry deserved to live, and he deserved to live in peace and in happiness, he deserved to live without pain and fear, deserved to live with a father and a family that could love him!

He didn't deserve to die.

And yet – there only were a few days left, there only were so little time for the child left, time during which he seemed being in pain, in fear, and so very tired and exhausted. He didn't deserve any of this!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Please remember, you will have potions tomorrow, Harry." Severus softly said during dinner this evening. "And after a short lunch we will go and visit the Ministry."

"They won't demand any reports from you after that, will they?" The boy just as softly asked and he lifted his eyebrow.

"No, they won't." He calmly answered. Why was it so important to the child that the ministry wouldn't get those reports? They were simple reports about his health and his education, something that any guardian would have to do, something that the Dursley should have done if Dumbledore hadn't made sure that they would be unbothered by the ministry.

"Have you already given a report about me to the Ministry?" Harry asked warily.

"Yes, I have." He quietly answered, his dark eyes on the ghost child. "They have already ordered three since you are living with me, but they have gotten monthly reports about you for the past eleven years already, Harry. I do not know what Dumbledore has written in his reports about you, but he had to give them the way I have to do now."

"Three already?" Harry asked, shocked. "But it's only five weeks that I'm back at Hogwarts! Why would they ask for so many?"

"It is only one report a fortnight, Harry, that is not much and they want to know of any progress you make." Severus explained, trying to sound not annoyed but calm. It wasn't Harry's fault after all that the ministry demanded those reports from him where one only would have been necessary so far. "And as long as I only have guardianship over you, I have to follow their orders."

Not that he gave them any valuable information to begin with, but well, they seemed satisfied with them as he never had seen any complain to his reports.

**Flashback**

'_Hogwarts, September, 14th 1992_

_To the ministry of magic_  
><em>Department of child welfare<em>  
><em>For the attention of Miss Elsa Harvest<em>

_Concerning the requested report about Mr. Harry Potter_

_Mr. Potter still resides in his ghostlike form. His health is – considering that he is a ghost in the first place – comparatively good. Not the same can be said for his physical form that heals too slowly and we still do not know how far his spinal column is damaged. _

_His school performance is satisfactory, especially considering the mental strain of having died recently, but of course it is impossible to give a statement only two weeks after the start of this school year._

___Kind regards__  
><em><em>Severus Snape<em>_  
><em><em>Potions Master at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry<em>_  
><em><em>Head of Slytherin house'<em>__

_Well, reading over his statement he had given – he just as well could have sent a blank piece of parchment and Harvest would have gained just as much information from it as from his report._

_It wasn't that he was not ready working together with Harvest, he was, Elsa Harvest was a very effective woman and she did for children in need what was possible to her – no, he just was not ready to work together with the ministry in general. If Harvest came to visit him, he would give her a verbal report and he would make sure that she could talk to Harry too – but not in any way of written conversation with the ministry itself. _

_Not to mention that he knew – his son would not be too happy about him giving away several details about his health._

_Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly he leaned back in his seat for a moment. How had it come to this? Him having a son, and a son that was a ghost too? _

_He, Severus Snape, he was a father, he had a son, he had a twelve year old boy that was a ghost, that hovered excitedly on bookshelves if he lost his – composure or whatever it could be called, that he sometimes could touch and sometimes not, that was a shy and quiet child that had wormed his way into his heart._

_Merlin!_

_And yet – he would not want to exchange his present situation with his peaceful past, never mind how many gray hair the child might cost him because of all his worries lately. _

**End flashback**

"You … you won't …" The boy stammered and he lifted his eyebrow at the child. "You won't write anything that … I mean …"

"Calm down, Harry." He quickly reassured. "They of course just get a report about your general health and your marks in school, not about any private things we are talking about and surely not about your breakdowns."

"Know." Harry murmured, drawing his knees to his chest and hugging them close. "Don' like it anyway, even if they got just general information." Green eyes looked up at him in a mixture of – sadness and anger. "They never cared to check on me while I was with the Dursleys, and now where I wouldn't need them anymore, now they intrude into my life."

"I know that it isn't fair." The Potions Master said. "Life never is too fair. But I guess you do know this already, don't you, child?" He then added after taking a deep breath. If anyone knew that life wasn't fair – then it was this particular child. Not even to him life had been as unfair as it had been to his son, as if it wanted to point out – you have made the mistakes, but it is your son I will punish for your crimes, it has been you who had made the crimes, but it is your son who will have to carry the unfairness of them.

"Go to bed, child." He softly said. "You need to be rested well tomorrow, it will be a strenuous day for you."

"But it's only seven!" The child protested, looking nearly shocked and showing his first absolutely normal pre-teenage reaction in protesting against an order he had given. "I've never been to bed at _seven_!"

The Potions Master just looked directly at Harry and raised his eyebrow challengingly.

"Alright." The boy sighed defeated, knowing well that it wouldn't do well to really challenge the Slytherin Professor. "Bed at seven."

"I am glad that we understand each other." Severus replied, his eyebrow still raised and his dark eyes following his son who grudgingly left the dinner area and went into the bathroom to get ready for bed, mentally sighing at the fact that – the child didn't dare reacting like a child for longer than only a moment before giving in and doing as he was ordered.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_There is plenty of time!_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

191 Points - Slytherin

152 Points - Ravenclaw

090 Points - Gryffindor

119 Points - Hufflepuff


	50. there is plenty of time!

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

March, 16th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"Go to bed, child." He softly said. "You need to be rested well tomorrow, it will be a strenuous day for you."_

_"But it's only seven!" The child protested, showing his first absolutely normal pre-teenage reaction in protesting against an order he had given. "I've never been to bed at seven!"_

_The Potions Master just looked directly at Harry and raised his eyebrow challengingly._

_"Alright." The boy sighed defeated, knowing well that it wouldn't do well to really challenge the Slytherin Professor. "Bed at seven."_

_"I am glad that we understand each other." Severus replied, his eyebrow still raised and his dark eyes following his son who grudgingly left the dinner area and went into the bathroom to get ready for bed, mentally sighing at the fact that – the child didn't dare reacting like a child for longer than only a moment before giving in and doing as he was ordered._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter fifty**

**There is plenty of time!**

The next morning came and to his great surprise Harry woke – realizing that he had fallen asleep quickly after going to bed last night at – _seven_ – and frowning he got up and quickly took a shower and then dressed. He frowned again while enjoying the hot jets of water from the shower, not at the hot jets of water to begin with, no, but he frowned at the bruises that still were visible all over his body.

Those injuries that had been open wounds, bleeding, some of them having been infected even, they were healed meanwhile, they weren't even bruises anymore, they were gone completely, but the bruises that had been bruises from the beginning on, they were still there and he didn't understand.

And he didn't like it either.

He could understand that the scars he'd had before he had become a – before he had died, he could understand that they were still there, present, visible, but how could it be that the bruises weren't gone? How …

He really looked like the freak he was, all pale and nearly translucent and all, so thin that it looked grotesque and ugly, his arms and legs sticks emerging from his body and then his thin torso, with all his ribs poking out and with all those blue and black and yellow bruises and the scars – like Frankenstein or something like that. It simply was ugly and he hated his body the way it was. Why had they not gone completely like the other injuries his father had healed? And why wasn't he gaining weight? It was unnerving!

And so it was of course no wonder that Harry Potter finished his shower rather quickly and then dried himself before he hastily dressed himself with the clothes he had laid out – the black Jeans he always wore beneath his school cloak instead of the slacks that were required, the white shirt and the neutral black Hogwarts tie that held the sign of Hogwarts – all four houses unified in one crest. He slipped on a pair of socks before he slipped into his shoes, a pair of boots instead of the black shoes the other children were wearing to their school uniforms as his father feared that he would twist his ankle as it was so weak.

After that he quickly went into the living area of the quarters he now shared with his father, the Potions Master, thinking of how strange all of this was. _He_, living here with the one man that had made his potions lessons a living hell so far, _he_, living here with the one man that had hated him so much that he only had to look at him and something spiteful came to his mind.

But so many things had changed and – it was strange now, his new situation, but it also was so great and he didn't know how he could make it up to his father. The man even was about to have him back as his son _officially_, acknowledging him _openly_ and it only took his, Harry's signature in a few hours!

Merlin!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Stepping into the living area and over to the dining table he frowned upon finding the table empty. Normally the Professor was sitting there in the early morning hours when he came out of the bathroom or his room, the older wizard reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee, but now the table was empty except for a note that laid on his, Harry's, place and for a moment his heartbeat increased tenfold, hundredfold even.

Was this the time where Snape retreated and told him in a letter that he would have to go back to the Gryffindor tower as he didn't want to have him here anymore? That they wouldn't go to the ministry later as he wouldn't want him as his son anymore? That he better left now before he came back and would punish him if he found him still being here? What was he to do now? Would he be allowed to get anything from his room before he left?

Taking a deep breath he forced himself to take the note, his fingers trembling when he reached out and with a frustrated sigh he found himself unable to touch the piece of parchment, his hand going through the parchment and the table as well and he nearly cried while leaning closer to read the note on the table without touching it.

'_Good morning, brat,'_ he read.

'_I expect you to have breakfast even without my presence to make sure you are eating something as I am in the headmaster's office at the present time. Please ask Zilly to serve your breakfast, I am sure she already has prepared it. If I am not back in time to walk you to the potions classroom, I am sure that you will be able finding your way through the dungeons yourself by now. Please do not be late for my class, I would not like taking points from my own house._

_Severus'_

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Alright!

He was not thrown out!

And he was not hated by Snape again!

Snape only had informed him of not being present and he only had told him to have breakfast and to be in time for his lesson if he wasn't back in time to get him for potions. _'I would not like taking points from my own hose.'_ Snape had written even! Snape saw him as a Slytherin now, saw him as one of his own!

"Zilly?" He carefully asked, unsure if the small house elf really would come if he called him, unsure if …

"Yes, Master Harry?" The small creature asked just a moment later, popping in beside him and he couldn't help flinching and jumping startled, even if he had known what would happen.

"Uhm … well … Professor Snape said … I mean, would you please …"

"Zilly will bring Master Harry his breakfast in a moment." The small creature squealed. "No need for Master Harry to fret, really."

"Uhm … ok …" He stammered, unsure of how to handle the small creature as he wasn't really so happy upon someone serving him, even if Snape had explained to him that Zilly would be very, very unhappy if he were to be set free and that he wouldn't even understand why his Master had "thrown him out" like a bad house elf. He didn't like it nevertheless. He always had been a slave to the Dursleys, a house elf in some kind, even if Zilly was treated much better than he had been treated by them, but well, Severus had told him that there were house elves that were treated just as badly as he'd been treated by the Dursleys. So –

Sighing he sat down and started his breakfast a moment later when Zilly re-appeared and brought him a plate with sweet toast and a cup of hot chocolate. The house elf slipped into a chair beside him to keep him company, trying to persuade him to eat slower as he – he had to admit that – actually had started to wolfing down his breakfast as quickly as possible.

"I have to hurry!" He gasped between two mouthfuls of toast.

"There is plenty of time, Master Harry!" The small house elf said. "Master Harry's class only starts in over an hour."

"Know, but what if I lose my way to the classroom?" He asked between a mouthful of toast and a sip of his hot chocolate.

"Zilly could bring Master Harry to his class." The small creature offered with a kind smile, but Harry quickly shook his head, not wanting to overstrain the house elf that surely had enough to do.

"Don't worry, Zilly." He said, wolfing down his last piece of toast and then already getting off the table. "I'll go early and then I'll have enough time if I won't find my way." And with those words he already was in his room and got his book bag, hurried back to the entrance door with a "bye Zilly, 'till later" on his lips, not hearing the "Master Harry cannot get lost as the classroom is just beside Master Professor Snape's office" Zilly called after him and a moment later he stepped into the man's office – to hit his palm to his forehead.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

How could he have been so stupid!

Of course he wouldn't get lost on his way to potions as the classroom was just beside the office and as the office was just the way out of the Potions Master's quarters! He had fallen for the man's words of _'I am sure that you will be able finding your way through the dungeons yourself by now' _that were just the man's strange kind of sarcasm he always displayed! Not to mention that he'd been so very startled and feared he might be late that he had forgotten about that.

So – should he stay here for an hour and wait until the class started?

Surely not!

So, turning around he left the office and went along the dungeons corridor that – as he thought – went towards the upper level and the entrance hall. He'd gone this corridor a few times by now, in the evenings for dinner at the great hall with his father and in the morning with either his father or Draco and Theodore for classes.

"You're early." He heard a voice coming from behind and whirling around he for a moment reached for his wand – just to remember that he didn't have it.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_he's really creepy sometimes  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

194 Points - Slytherin

155 Points - Ravenclaw

134 Points - Gryffindor

119 Points - Hufflepuff

nice to see Gryffindor has caught up so much - I'm sure, my dear Catlady, that you're very happy with one Jean McIory at the moment *smirk* …


	51. he's really creepy sometimes

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

March, 18th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_How could he have been so stupid!_

_Of course he wouldn't get lost on his way to potions as the classroom was just beside the office and as the office was just the way out of the Potions Master's quarters! He had fallen for the man's words of 'I am sure that you will be able finding your way through the dungeons yourself by now' that were just the man's strange kind of sarcasm he always displayed!_

_So – should he stay here for an hour and wait until the class started? _

_Surely not!_

_So, turning around he left the office and went along the dungeons corridor that – as he thought – went towards the upper level and the entrance hall. He'd gone this corridor a few times by now, in the evenings for dinner at the great hall with his father and in the morning with either his father or Draco and Theodore for classes._

_"You're early." He heard a voice coming from behind and whirling around he for a moment reached for his wand – just to remember that he didn't have it._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter fifty-one **

**He's really creepy sometimes**

"You're early." He heard a voice coming from behind and whirling around he for a moment reached for his wand – just to remember that he didn't have it, the wand still laying on the nightstand where his father had placed it weeks ago. He hadn't been able to bring himself to touch it since and he – but well, if he was reaching for it now, in a situation that could be dangerous – then surely that was a good sign? Then maybe he was ready to accept his magic again? Then maybe he would … he didn't know.

Snape had explained it to him, that he'd been punished for his accidental magic too often, that the last summer and him – kind of dying, being killed because he was a wizard, had made him wishing that he weren't a wizard at all and so he was blocking his own magic – or at least something along those lines, he wasn't completely sure what the older man had meant.

However, seeing that it was only Draco and Theodore on their way to most likely breakfast – he didn't want to think about it either.

"Know." He answered. "I thought I'd go to the lake for a few minutes before classes."

"And forget yourself and get late." Theodore chuckled. "Just come to the great hall, it's still pretty early, you know, and there won't be more than a few dozen of the students in the great hall, if that even."

Quickly he shook his head.

"I don't think that I could face the Gryffindors right now." He said, taking a deep breath. "Not so early in the morning."

"You're not sitting with them, remember?" Draco reminded him. "You're sitting at the Slytherin table anyway?"

"I know." He growled exasperated while he scowled at the blond boy. "But I have to face them nevertheless."

"You know, you just look like your father when you're doing this." Draco laughed at him and he took a deep breath. It really was scary, having Draco Malfoy of all people laughing at him. And yes, he still was _not_ used to the fact that Malfoy was friendly with him to begin with, not to mention the other Slytherins.

"You will have to face them one day anyway." Draco said, shrugging his shoulders. "You see them every day in classes! And you have faced us all the time last year!"

Without an answer but giving away a depressed sigh Harry found himself following them into the great hall without knowing why he did so. But well, at least they were right and there weren't that many people in there.

He even got a pretty warm welcome from most of the Slytherins though as he sat with Draco at the breakfast table, the Slytherins being used to his presence at their table only for dinner so far, when Snape took him there, but they didn't seem to mind him being at their table without Snape around. The lions though shot him nasty looks, especially Ron when he came in later, his hair mused and his eyes still sleepy.

"How about actually _eating_ breakfast, young man?" Snape's voice from behind drawled down at him and gulping heavily he turned to look up at the man standing behind his bench, like he so often had suddenly stood behind him last year at the Gryffindor table and he guessed that there were some things that would never change when it came to this particular Professor that happened to be his father – namely that he could scare the hell out of him in such moments.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He had hurried back to his quarters, hoping that he would find Harry sitting at the breakfast table still as it wasn't too late yet, but the small ghost child had not been there and with a scowl on his face he had entered his son's room – just to find it empty. He had hurried through his quarters searching the child, but again – without success and finally he had left them even, had hurried towards the Slytherin common room.

Harry hadn't been there either, not that he would have thought that the boy really had gone there, he never had since he had shown him to his new common room a few days ago, but well, he'd _had_ to try. After that he had gone to the great hall, seeing that Draco and Theodore had not been in the common room either and upon entering he took a deep and calming breath. There the boy was sitting together with the other second years.

Taking his own seat on the head table he scowled at Minerva who looked over at him with s smile on her face and a "good morning, Severus, nice to see you for breakfast for a chance" on her lips. As if it were his fault that he wasn't present for breakfast lately, but he couldn't let Harry on his own! The boy had been neglected by the adults around him for long enough and it would end here, he had sworn this and he would see it through.

Not to mention that he wanted the boy close for as long as he could have him close – for as long as the boy lived still.

Noticing that – _said boy_ – did not eat he frowned and got off the staff table, went down to the Slytherin table, approaching his son.

For a moment he remembered all those times when he had approached the boy on the Gryffindor table, accusing him of one thing or another and mentally enjoying the boy paling more and more each time he had approached him, and he also remembered the one time he had approached the boy without blaming him for anything, the first time he had done so and the last time he had approached him on the Gryffindor table at all, on September first, when he had come back to Hogwarts as a ghost.

"How about actually _eating_ breakfast, young man?" He asked.

The boy turning and looking up at him, startled, the half-translucent face paling like it always had done in the past when he had approached him – it wasn't a feeling he liked at all.

"I've had breakfast, sir." The boy said and he frowned down at the imp. He'd already had breakfast? Already? At half past seven in the morning? Lifting his eyebrow at the boy he looked down sceptically.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry took a deep breath before releasing it in frustration.

It was clear that the Potions Master didn't believe him, he knew this eyebrow and this sceptical look, but he'd had breakfast and he surely wouldn't be able eating anything more now.

"At least drink another cup of hot chocolate." He heard his father's voice and looking back up at the man he could see the man's always so hard face soften, and he nodded quickly. He could feel the man standing behind him for a few moments longer, watching him sternly, but when he had poured some of the hot chocolate into a cup and then turned, his father was gone and already sitting back at the head table.

"He's really creepy, sometimes." Draco beside him murmured and he couldn't help agreeing. "And since you're changed, you sometimes just look as creepy as him!" The blond boy then said, clearly intending on sounding accusingly and he quietly laughed.

"Well, seeing that I'm his son, I guess some similarities are inevitably." He scowled.

"Definitely." Draco agreed and he shook his head with a huff. Draco of all people agreeing with him while sitting together over breakfast and having a civil conversation, that was just as strange as – as strange as Snape being nice to begin with, what wasn't so strange anymore lately.

"So, today's your big day." Draco then suddenly said, turning on the bench so that he sat with one foot on either side of the bench, facing him while he held his own cup of hot chocolate in his hands and he couldn't help but looking down at the table, not turning towards the blond boy. "Will you be a Snape at the end of it or a Potter still?" Draco then asked, frowning at him and for a moment he frowned back at the blond boy.

Not because it was Draco who asked such a personal question of him that would hold Ron's place, and it definitely _was_ a personal question, but because – well, earlier he had not even thought about this particular question. In the past, surely he would have been totally sure about keeping his name, but now, after living with Snape for the last weeks and already feeling so close to the Professor, feeling that he needed the man, that he even liked him – he wasn't sure any longer. He would be proud to be a Snape, and he would do anything to live up to this name. He also feared he would never really feel as if he belonged to the man if he remained a Potter. On the other hand he didn't know if he was allowed to, if it would be alright for the Potions Master if he took his family name, he didn't want to take too much, didn't want to take anything that wasn't his. He had no right to get as far as …

"You have to tell him, Severus!" He heard McGonagall's voice and looking over at the head table he could see the Transfiguration Professor looking at the Potions Master in pure shock while the dark wizard only lifted his eyebrow at her in his typical Snape manner, a sight that actually was – kind of amusing, Snape looking at McGonagall like he always looked at _them_, the students.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_Interlude chapter one – he started to understand_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

194 Points - Slytherin

155 Points - Ravenclaw

134 Points - Gryffindor

119 Points - Hufflepuff


	52. interlude one – he started to understand

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

March, 20th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"He's really creepy, sometimes." Draco beside him murmured and he couldn't help agreeing. "And since you're changed, you sometimes just look as creepy as him!" The blond boy then said, clearly intending on sounding accusingly and he quietly laughed. _

_"Well, seeing that I'm his son, I guess some similarities are inevitably." He scowled. _

_"Definitely." Draco agreed and he shook his head with a huff. Draco of all people agreeing with him while sitting together over breakfast and having a civil conversation, that was just as strange as – as strange as Snape being nice to begin with, what wasn't so strange anymore lately. _

_"So, today's your big day." Draco then suddenly said, turning on the bench so that he sat with one foot on either side of the bench, facing him while he held his own cup of hot chocolate in his hands and he couldn't help but looking down at the table, not turning towards the blond boy. "Will you be a Snape at the end of it or a Potter still?" Draco then asked, frowning at him and for a moment he frowned back at the blond boy. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter fifty-two **

**Interlude chapter one – he started to understand**

Watching Potter he frowned, wondering how it had come to that, Potter sitting beside him at the Slytherin table for breakfast and he didn't even mind the other boy that had been his – his what? His enemy? His Gryffindor counterpart? His what? He wasn't so sure, not anymore, not since the train ride and definitely not since the past few potions lessons and uncle Severus' visit with Potter in the Slytherin common room.

Already on the train ride he had known that there was something really wrong. He had seen Potter being a ghost, and he of course had seen the bruises, he was a Slytherin after all and so he of course looked for such things, and found them if they were there, knew what they meant then. Potter had been beaten and seeing that he was a ghost and only dead persons could become ghosts – well, he had been beaten to death. It was a logical conclusion.

However, Potter or not Potter, it had been that moment when his animosity had started crumbling, because no one, and especially no child, deserved that, being beaten to death.

And then there had been the one particular potions lesson, one of the first potions lessons of the year and well, it had been a startling potions lesson, one that had made him considering a few things.

**Flashback**

_"Harry, you are next, come here please."_

_Blinking in shock he looked up, his eyes searching out the dark eyes of Severus, but his godfather had them locked with the green ones of Potter, leaving him, Draco, to wonder how it was that not only had the Slytherin head of house called the Gryffindor by his given name, and in a tone he normally only used with his Slytherins no less. _

_He knew however better than trying to gain his teacher's attention, knowing that if Severus acted like this, then he had a reason, whatever reason it was he suddenly handled Potter like he were one of his snakes. And well, Potter himself didn't seem so sure himself either, because he watched the Potions Master carefully, clearly not trusting him. _

_"Just trust me." Uncle Severus said and his frown deepened while he watched Potter's fingers that took the vial with the truth serum trembling. "I won't hurt you." Uncle Severus then added, causing his frown to deepen, because he knew _– _while Severus never would actually hurt a child, not really, it was a complete different thing hearing him stating just this, but well Potter finally and actually took a sip of the potion. _

_The teacher's next words however startled him more than anything else. _

_"Well done, Harry." Uncle Severus gently said, in a tone of voice that really only were reserved for the Slytherins. _

_Well, if he had thought he was dreaming so far, then he now was sure that it was some kind of hallucination or uncle Severus being under the imperious curse – at least he would think so if his godfather weren't the best when it came to defence against the dark arts. So – no, he was sure that it wasn't the imperious, and therefore it had to be a hallucination._

_But then Ca quick glance at the other Slytherins showed him that no, it was not a hallucination or they had a collective hallucination and he doubted that such a thing even was possible, because as well as they hid it, they too were startled, he knew what he had to look for and he could see behind the masks his house mates displayed. _

_"I do thank you, Harry." He heard his godfather saying, just as gently, and looking up at the front of the classroom he scowled. Now he had missed the question!_

**End flashback**

Well, yes – he'd _had_ missed the question, but not only had Theo told him later, but also had the small smile Potter had given uncle Severus been just the more startlingthan any question could have been.

"As for what will happen now, Miss Granger – this depends on you." His godfather later had said to Granger and if he had not learned some self control, then he would have gaped at the man because never before had he thought that his godfather would give a well meant advice to a Gryffindor, and in a gentle tone no less. "You may continue with avoiding Harry, what surely will destroy the last remnants of your friendship, or you might try to overcome the – _'creepy feeling'_ and try to make the best of the situation in simply – approaching a ghost child. Think of how you would feel and I am sure you will manage. You may go back to your seat. Misters Weasley, Finnigan and Thomas, please."

Well, he hadn't known what this was about except that Granger apparently had breached the privacy of someone – he had guessed Potter – and some of the Gryffindors having been interested in Granger's doing. But well – he hadn't known why McGonagall wouldn't handle the situation.

Of course there had been transfiguration, just the day before the last potions class, during which they had brewed the truth serum, and of course he had immediately known that McGonagall had been angry, and for once at some of the Gryffindors. He even had been frowning when McGonagall had mentioned incontinence, wondering how it was that one of the lions had wet his or her bed, not to mention wondering why McGonagall would bring it up in a class, Severus never would do such a thing after all.

He knew that there were one or two of the Slytherins who had wet their bed upon having a nightmare and he also knew that Severus always had been there then to calm them down and then to help them, but he just as well knew that the man never, absolutely never, would bring this up in class or even in a meeting he had with his Slytherins.

But well, the thought had been gone quickly, seeing that he had been looking forwards to Weasley being questioned and Severus stance had promised nothing well, it had been different than it had been with the others before.

**Flashback**

_"A sip please, each of you." Severus said, holding out three vials with the truth serum and the three idiots actually downed them completely, nearly causing him to chuckle at their idiocy. Well, the look that uncle Severus cast at him for a moment definitely kept him from doing so, but well, he knew what would happen. _

_"Hmm." The potions teacher made and he knew that the man was clearly amused. "A sip clearly would have been enough but well, the entire vial won't harm you either. It only will increase the time and will take effect for longer than the hour a truth serum normally works for – two or three days, I guess. But be it."_

_Well, he had known that it would have a prolonged effect, but of course the Gryffindors hadn't known that, especially not Weasley._

_"So – how is it, that three pre-teenagers at the age of twelve, feel the need of – urinating on the bed of one of their classmates?" his godfather asked and this time he hadn't been able keeping from gasping – and he was not the only one. They had – what? Surely uncle Severus had _…

_Surely they had not done such a thing, because even if the Gryffindors were stupid idiots and bullies, they surely would not do such a thing, no one would _…

_"Ron told us to." Finnigan said, before Weasley hissed an angry "shut up, you idiot" at him. "He'd said that a ghost wouldn't sleep in a bed anyway and that he wanted to know if a ghost would mind a wet bed to begin with. I'm sorry, really, I've only thought about it later, when Harry had been laying on the floor beside the bed to sleep on the floor. I didn't want that but … what should I have done? I …"_

_Potter? Weasley had – pissed on Potter's bed because he was a ghost? _

_Surely that was a mistake, because it wasn't Potter's fault that he was a ghost? _

_He definitely started seeing why uncle Severus would address this in class – and he suddenly understood why McGonagall had been so angry too, during transfiguration. _

_"You for once could have shown this Gryffindor bravery you are so well known for and you could have gone against Mr. Weasley's – 'order' – as it not only is revolting and sickening, urinating on someone else's bed, and that with twelve years! You should be ashamed of yourselves! All of you three! I definitely am ashamed of such beastly imbeciles as you and were you in my house, be assured that you would have been punished in a more severe way than you already are. Your actions towards one of your own classmates are unspeakable!"_

_He definitely agreed to that. _

_"So what!" Weasley shouted and he really gasped now, shocked, holding his breath. "What's it to you? You're not our head of house!" He knew that the Lions with their idiotic Gryffindor bravery were – well, just idiotic, but this here – this was unbelievable! This was _…

_"No, I am not, Mr. Weasley, luckily for you." Severus calmly drawled at the boy and he wondered how his godfather could be so calm _– _he knew that if Weasley were a Slytherin, then uncle Severus would ignore it for now, but after class he would take him to his office to punish him and he knew from own experiences that a punishment from his own head of house was anything than pleasant. "And nevertheless I am a teacher here at Hogwarts and so you are a student of mine as well as is Mr. Potter and as your teacher it is in my hand to punish you as well as it is in my hand to protect Mr. Potter from further abuse and bullying his own house is bestowing upon him. But if you are so sure that you have done nothing wrong – we also can address your mother with what you have done, Mr. Weasley, I am sure that Molly will be very pleased with your actions, do you not think so?"_

_Merlin!_

_How was it that uncle Severus suddenly was so very protective of Potter? So caring? What had happened from the time span between last school year and this school year? _

_And yes, he suddenly knew that it was caring, because he had seen his godfather placing his hand on Potter's shoulder last lesson, and even if he hadn't questioned his godfather over it back then, knowing that the only answer he would get from the dark man would be a "that surely is none of your business" he nevertheless had been curious about it._

_He started to understand however. _

_"So what?" Weasley screamed, getting to his feet, causing the entire class to look from Severus to Weasley and back to Severus. "I don't care! I …"_

_Except of Potter as it seemed, because a soft sob drew his attention to the back of the Gryffindor side, followed by something he could barely make out as a softly uttered "please" by Potter, the ghost looking deathly pale, alright, he he was dead and so he of course loooked deathly _– _but well, he just looked startled out of his pants and suddenly he knew that he couldn't leave the other boy in his misery, that surely uncle Severus had not started defending Potter to have him now suffering a heart attack or something like that, that _…

_"You better keep a grip …" He barely recognized from his head of house mixed with the second "please …" coming from Potter and for a second he didn't know what to do.  
><em>

_"Uncle Severus …"_

**End flashback**

Well, everything had been so fast back then, Weasley's comment, uncle Severus' warning, Potter's second plea – he hadn't even realized that he had called his godfather "uncle Severus" in class, in front of the Gryffindors, but well, the man had not minded, as it seemed. Well, he guessed that the man hadn't had much sense to really think much of it, because he himself had paled after he had cast a look at Potter and he had told Weasley that surely the other students would like asking them a lot of questions during the next few days before he had dismissed the class, sending Weasley, Finnigan and Thomas away without giving them the counter potion.

Well, he always had known that his godfather had a wicked sense of humour.

But then – had it really been humour? He wasn't sure, and with the knowledge he now had … he guessed that the man had had more worries than Weasley at that moment, because he definitely had been worried about Potter who had been close to a breakdown.

And then there had been the visit to the Slytherin common room.

Not that it was a startling thing that Severus visited the Slytherin common room, he nearly every evening did, sometimes really regularly, sometimes just a few evenings a week, depending on his time. No, the startling thing had been – he'd had Potter with him, telling them that he not only was a Slytherin – and always had been, by the way – but that he also was Severus' son. So, that made Potter – what? His cousin? His god-brother or something like that? His fellow snake? One of his own? His what? He didn't know.

But well, it _had_ happened, the unthinkable, apparently Potter definitely _was_ the son of his godfather, of his head of house, whatever.

And he had seen that Severus hadn't only taken Potter in because of his sense of responsibility, or because Dumbledore had ordered it of him, no! He was sure that – Merlin, he was sure that Severus actually _wanted_ Potter. Because he had looked at the other boy like he looked at him, Draco, as if he not only cared but even liked him. And he surely wouldn't dare speaking of love here, because he knew his godfather and he also knew that Severus would kill him if he just _thought_ of something like love when it came to him.

But well, Severus had gone all protective over Potter, and caring, had been really, really worried, nearly upset, when his hands suddenly had gone through Potter's form and he had to admit that he'd been startled too, because he had seen that during potions Severus had laid his hand on the other boy's shoulder, had touched him.

**Flashback**

_Ok, it really had been a stupid question of him, but really, he only had tried following Marcus' lead. He knew how things worked in Slytherin after all, and if Marcus started the lead with using Potter's given name and asking questions on what would happen now, then he knew that they should follow, then he knew that they should reach out their hands just as well, and maybe Potter would take one of their hands. He doubted it, honestly. Potter was too much of a Gryffindor and in his eyes all Slytherin things were bad, but on the other hand – Potter seemed to have accepted uncle Severus as his father, or he wouldn't have allowed him touching him during potions a few days ago, nor would he have smiled up at him back then._

_The other boy sagging against uncle Severus startled him out of his thoughts and he frowned. Yes, Potter definitely seemed to have accepted Severus as his father. _

_And seeing that he was a ghost, that he had been killed and Severus – he wasn't stupid after all and he knew that his godfather went against child abuse all the time – had helped him with whatever problems he'd had – or still had – well, he guessed that maybe he could understand now, a bit at least. _

_If an abused Potter was the same as was any abused Slytherin, then yes, it was definitely understandable. But uncle Severus responding to it and embracing the other boy openly in front of them? _

_"I do understand your need for distance as well as your need for safety – but your body becoming unseizable whenever you are scared or disappointed is annoying." Uncle Severus said while holding Potter close. "I do need the ability to touch my own son. Imagine there is a dangerous situation I need to get you away from!"_

_"'M a ghost." The other boy mumbled. "Can't die 'gain."_

_"You are not completely dead yet, Harry." He had answered. "Or your body would be dead completely and your ghost form would be translucent and unseizable completely. And therefore I am sure that – yes, you could die."_

_"'M not doing this on purpose." Potter said, clearly trying to defend himself but it rather sounded half heartedly, as if the other boy enjoyed the embrace too much to put up a real fight. Well, he could understand that too well. In Slytherin were too many abused and neglected children and he knew them, he actually was lucky that he was one of the few that were neither of the two, but he definitely knew that even he always enjoyd the moments his godfather wrapped his arms around him, and he knew that those other children in Slytherin enjoyed it just the more, craved for it, sometimes even just sat beside uncle Severus during his visits in the common room to lean against their head of house in the hope that he might pull them close.  
><em>

_"And I did not say you did either. But I am sure that you can learn having a bit more control over your form. I take it you are alright now? Seeing that I can touch you and seeing that you are physically clinging to me like a primate?"_

_He couldn't help snorting at that comment while Severus stood, Potter still in his arms, clinging to him, the man carrying the Gryffindor out of their common room. _

**End flashback**

Well, it had been a strange picture, but one that definitely looked cute, even if he never would tell so in any form, neither with spoken nor with written words, or uncle Severus would kill him. But well, it _had_ looked cute, their head of house that was known as a dark and cold bastard to anyone who was not in Slytherin, carrying a too small Gryffindor that rather looked like a nine or ten year old ghost around and suddenly he had noticed just _how_ small Potter actually was.

"You have to tell him, Severus!" McGonagall's voice got him out of his thoughts and looking over at the head table he could see the Transfiguration Professor looking at the Potions Master in pure shock while the wizard only lifted his eyebrow at the witch in his typical Snape manner, a sight that actually was – kind of amusing, Severus looking at McGonagall like he always looked at the students.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_Please sir – I'm fine_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

206 Points - Slytherin

165 Points - Ravenclaw

149 Points - Gryffindor

124 Points - Hufflepuff


	53. please sir, i'm fine

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

March, 22nd 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"Will you be a Snape at the end of it or a Potter still?" Draco then asked, frowning at him and for a moment he frowned back at the blond boy. _

_Not because it was Draco who asked such a personal question of him that would hold Ron's place, and it definitely was a personal question, but because – well, earlier he had been totally sure about keeping his name, but now, after living with Snape for the last weeks and already feeling so close to the Professor, he wasn't sure any longer. He would be proud to be a Snape, and he feared he would never really feel as if he belonged to the man if he remained a Potter. On the other hand he didn't know if he was allowed, if it would be alright for the Potions Master if he took his family name, he didn't want to take too much, didn't want to take anything that wasn't his. He had no right to get as far as …_

_"You have to tell him, Severus!" He heard McGonagall's voice and looking over at the head table he could see the Transfiguration Professor looking at the Potions Master in pure shock while the dark wizard only lifted his eyebrow at her in his typical Snape manner, a sight that actually was – kind of amusing, Snape looking at McGonagall like he always looked at them, the students. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter fifty-three **

**Please, sir, I'm fine**

"And pray tell, why would I do such a thing, Minerva?" Snape asked, getting off his chair before he turned and left the hall.

"Because Albus has to know about it!" The deputy headmistress said getting off her chair as well.

"I don't think so. Harry is my son and Albus has no say in this!" Severus said, frowning by now and he waited until the older woman had caught up with him before they both left the great hall.

"'Till later!" Harry gasped, getting off the bench and racing towards the double winged doors of the entrance hall, not hearing the startled "wouldn't do that" Draco called after him, not even noticing that his feet barely touched the ground anymore while he – _floated_ through the wall beside the doors and then reappeared in a corridor that was close to the kitchens and he frowned. The kitchens were down there, _below_ the great hall!

"I do not care, Minerva!" He heard his father's voice and the older wizard sounded angry. "Albus won't play the same game with my son just because he is a Snape!"

Creeping closer he peered around the corner into the next corridor and could see his father standing there, with his back to him and facing the deputy headmistress.

"Severus, please." McGonagall sighed. "I ask you to not go openly against Albus. Just tell him about your plans for Harry and let it be then. If you keep this from Albus, he will take it that you went against him openly and he might do something to get you arrest- …"

"I suggest you come here, Harry." Snape's voice fell into McGonagall's words, the Potions Master not even turning around and he couldn't help flinching startled. How had that man known that he was here? Merlin! He should have known! He'd never been able to keep something secret from Snape, even back last year, he was sure that Snape had known about _them_ knowing about the philosopher's stone! They'd met him at every corner back then and he was sure that he'd been following them.

Slowly he straightened and stepped into the corridor the two teachers were standing in. Why did he have to have a teacher as his father? Merlin! Slowly he came closer to the man and then stopped at a few good arm lengths.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"I said come here, Harry." The Potions Master growled when his son stopped in considerable distance, his dark eyes piercing the clearly scared ghostlike form when the boy took a careful step closer and then another one. Frowning he lifted his hand to place it onto the child's shoulder so he could pull him closer, but barely a second later the child was two steps away, his arms lifted and his shoulders tense – and he, Snape, took a deep breath.

"Come here, I said." He growled deeply, not lowering his hand but simply turning it palm upwards to show – he didn't mean harm.

And slowly the boy again came one small step closer, another one and finally a third one, but his arms did not go down completely, were still held in front of his chest somehow so that he would be able bringing them up as soon as necessary to defend himself.

He knew that Harry still didn't trust him, not completely at least and he also knew that the child was scared of him still, never mind how often he had reassured the boy that he wouldn't hurt him – but he hadn't gotten such a bad reaction from the child for some time yet and he was more than just a bit worried.

Slowly he turned his hand to place it atop a bony shoulder, ignoring the ghost form flinching, and suppressing the sigh when his hand went through the ghost form.

"Harry." He quietly said, his dark eyes still on his son and he waited, watching how those particles reformed, and reformed, and again reformed, as if the child wasn't sure if he really should trust him, as if the child wasn't sure if he could allow him to touch his form in this particular situation, seeing that he had done something wrong, seeing that he, Snape seemed angry, seeing that he easily _could_ be hurt.

But then the change of the translucency stopped and at the same time the boy averted his eyes, as if being ashamed of having been scared a moment ago and it was a small miracle that there was no quietly whispered "'m sorry" coming from the child.

Slowly he drew out the movement he had started a moment ago and placed his still outstretched hand onto the child's small and thin shoulder, pulling the small form of his son closer, relieved that he – in the end – could always touch him.

"I would not have hurt you." He quietly said, bending low to the child so that only he, but not Minerva could hear his whispered words.

"Mr. Potter!" The deputy headmistress at the same time chided, causing him to roll his eyes at his colleague. "Eavesdropping is extremely rude!"

"That might be, Professor." The boy answered, quietly and not looking up at his former head of house. "But sometimes it might save your life as it's the only way to find out things that no one is telling you about." He then added and from the look at the blasted woman, she definitely seemed stunned, unable to give an adequate answer – and he had to admit that he was impressed. Years of teaching and ruling over the most unruly house of the school had made it nearly impossible to confuse, surprise or shock Minerva McGonagall. She had stared down all the Weasleys, the Potters and the Blacks of three generations and even the Malfoys or the Diggorys and not even Snape could make her backing off easily.

But it seemed that Harry had managed that unheard of deed without really trying – because still Minerva McGonagall was simply looking at the boy before taking a deep breath and then shaking her head.

"It is nearly time for classes, Harry." He quietly said. "Go to the potions classroom, I will be there shortly."

"Sir?" Harry asked, looking up at him with large green eyes.

"We will talk later, when we are back from the ministry." He quietly said. "Go now, before you are too late and I have to deduce points from my own house."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He had taken a deep breath and then he had nodded his head with an "of course, Professor" before he had turned and gone along the corridor that would lead to that part of the dungeons where the potions classroom, Snape's office and their quarters were, all the while unsure about not only what Snape and McGonagall might have talked about, but about what to do concerning his name also.

Draco had asked if he would take the name Snape or if he would keep his own name, but honestly – he never had thought about that! He hadn't even known that he could chose! He had thought he would give his signature at the parchment and then he would be Snape's son again, officially, so no one could do anything against it, but that he still would be – Harry James Potter.

But now? Did he have a chance of changing his name? Really? And should he do so? What would the Potions Professor say if he …

Potions had been some kind of blur, he had to admit that.

He had managed to brew the potion flawlessly, yes, but even so he hadn't been able to banish those thoughts about his name completely and at the end of the class the Potions Master had called him back with an "a word please, Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Nott, wait outside please" and he had taken a deep breath, knowing that he was in trouble again, without knowing why.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry nervously went to the front desk and the moment all students were out of the room, the man behind looked up from grading papers, looked up at him with those dark black eyes that always had held so much coldness, but held so much warmth lately whenever they were directed at him, that it was already startling.

As it seemed – as deeply as Snape could hate – as deeply he could love.

"Are you well?" His father then asked, caused him to take a deep breath.

"Will you ask this after each class?" He carefully asked back, unsure of how the Potions Master would take his words, if he'd think they were cheeky, but well, anything was better than having to admit that – no, he was not alright, that no – he was _far_ from being alright actually.

"No." Severus put his quill down and glanced expectantly at Harry, waiting if maybe the boy would – for once – admit that he was not well. "No, I won't, but I will ask this question of you after those classes that you do not seem to pay attention in. So what was wrong during class?"

"I was just a bit lost in thought, please, sir, I'm fine." The blasted brat assured him, at least he clearly _hoped_ that he had assured him, but the boy radiated nervousness and worry.

But well, they would meet with Harvest soon and he knew – if anyone at child services would be able handling an overly worrying and nervous pre-teenage wrack, then it was Elsa Harvest. He would leave the boy alone for now, because he knew that most likely he would do more harm then good if he tried to calm him right now.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_He's the only one I trust_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

210 Points - Slytherin

166 Points - Ravenclaw

152 Points - Gryffindor

126 Points - Hufflepuff


	54. he's the only one I trust

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 2nd 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Harry nervously had gone to the front desk and the moment all students had been out of the room, Severus had looked up from grading papers, had looked up at him with those dark black eyes that always had held so much coldness, but held so much warmth lately whenever they were directed at him, that it was already startling. _

_"Are you all right?" His father had asked, had caused him to take a deep breath._

_"Will you ask this after each class?" He had asked back, just so that he didn't have to admit that – no, he was not alright._

_"No." Severus had put his quill down and stared expectantly at Harry. "Only after those classes that you do not seem to pay attention in. So what was wrong during class?" _

_"I was just a bit lost in thought, please, sir, I'm fine." He had assured the Potions Master, at least he had hoped that he had assured him._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter fifty-four **

**He's the only one I trust**

And now he was sitting in a small room that led to the office of Madam Hanson, nervously playing with the hem of his cloak and his limbs jerking every now and then, waiting for someone to come while the Potions Master was sitting beside him, calmly and ever so stoic, only laying a calming hand atop his knee from time to time when his jerking limbs seemed to move more violently than before.

How could Snape be so calm?

And how could he be so damn nervous?

And why wouldn't his limbs stop jerking!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Severus at the same time had a hard time keeping as calm as one Harry Potter was believing him to be at the present time while he inwardly nearly died thousands of deaths – because at the entrance he had been informed about Elsa Harvest being ill – because he was worried over the child that in a few moments hopefully would be his son again, rightfully and legally, without Dumbledore or anyone else being able to do anything against it – and while he still was worried how long he would have said child at his side, how long the child he was claiming rightfully today would live, if he even would survive the next few days.

Once more he placed his hand onto the child's knee when his arms came up in another jerking movement and he frowned, trying to think back to the past few weeks and to last year. Never before had he noticed the boy making such jerking movements and he didn't like them. Not because he was irritated by them, he was far behind irritated at the present time, but because he was worried. Those jerking limbs made clear that the boy was not alright, that he was suffering so much emotional strain, he simply needed an outlet. And neither did he place his hand atop the boy's knee to keep him from making those movements, because he knew that this wouldn't be possibel even, but to give him a sense of calmness, a sense of reality, to keep him on the ground and to show him – he wasn't alone.

"It will be alright, Harry." He said when the boy looked up at him with large green eyes.

"Mr. Potter." There was a call, and looking over at the door that had opened, he noticed Madam Hanson sticking her head out of the room. "If you would come, please."

The boy looked over at him, Snape, pleadingly, and he was about to get up from his chair as well, but the woman's voice, saying "Mr. Potter only", made clear that – he had to stay and the boy had to go in there alone.

A moment later Harry had been gone, into the office, alone and reluctantly, looking back at him, Snape, more than once, and then the door was closed, while he, the darkest, coldest and toughest teacher existent on this earth was sitting there, inwardly dying with nervousness.

Taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose to calm his own nerves he remembered their conversation earlier in the morning, after potions.

**Flashback**

_"If you are not absolutely sure about the adoption, you still can back out of it if you so wish." He barely was able to finish this particular sentence and he had to place his hands consciously atop the desk to keep them from running nervously over his face. "You do not have to …"_

_"I don't have second thoughts." The boy quietly said, looking at him shocked and he frowned. The boy had been so strange all morning, more scared than he had been lately, more unsure and doing things he wouldn't do normally – and it hadn't even gone better after he'd had breakfast and hot chocolate that normally lifted the child's mood and spirit. "How can you think that?"_

_"Normally you are not as inattentive in my class as you have been this morning." Severus said and eyed Harry closely. "Not after we have come to live together and surely not since you have found interest in Potions after all." _

_"I'm just nervous, that's all." The child said and he sighed. Of course the child was nervous. As was he, Snape._

**End flashback**

'_That blasted boy is more than just nervous!'_ He couldn't help thinking when he noticed the child looking back at him, scared, the small face paler than ever and the small form trembling – he would give anything if he could go in there together with his son, but he understood that Hanson needed to speak with the boy alone, without his presence and influence.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

When Harry went into the room he began shaking while his insides started to squirm with coldness, while his lungs seemed to work double speed and his heart to work louder than ever.

"Very well, Mr. Potter, I would like you to tell me why exactly you would want Professor Snape as your father." The woman said and he looked up, unsure of what her question meant. Snape _was_ his father! Wasn't he? Why would she ask? They surely knew about Snape being his father?

"Because he … he _is_ my father, ma'am?" He carefully asked, not sure what the Lady wanted of him.

"That surely is not a valid reason." Madam Hanson said and he frowned, thinking. If this was not a valid reason, Snape being his father, then what might be? What did she want of him? He didn't understand.

"I … I don't know what you want, ma'am." He quietly said. "I don't understand. This _is_ a valid reason. I mean … I've never had a father, but now I have one and now … this is … I don't wanna lose this now … and …"

"You do know that Professor Snape is a Death Eater, Mr. Potter?" Madam Hanson asked and he frowned. "That he has been the cause for your parents' death? That he is a follower of that same dark wizard that has killed your parents? You do realize that he is a criminal?"

Of course he knew that Snape once had been a dark wizard, he wasn't stupid after all and he could read – and think, by the way. He didn't know what exactly Hanson meant with a '_Death Eater'_, but he knew that Snape had been a spy, his father had told him. And he also knew that Snape was his father, so he couldn't be responsible for both his parents' deaths, because his father was still alive. He also knew that he had loved his mother, even back then when he had not remembered that they'd been married, so he was pretty sure that Snape wouldn't have done anything that would have killed his mother. And he also knew that Snape had not followed Voldemort but Dumbledore, just secretly so as he'd been a spy. He couldn't go out openly telling people that he was working against Voldemort, spying on him, he surely had been killed by Voldemort too and then he wouldn't have a father now, then he still would have no one and …

"Don' care." He murmured. "Can't I just sign those papers? That's what I'm here for an'way, innit?." He asked, feeling close to crying. Surely that Lady would not forbid him to live with his father? Surely that Lady would not separate them? Where would he go? He would have to go back to the Dursleys then and he would have to … he couldn't do that! "I want this." He quietly said. "Please, he's the only one I trust and … I just want this …"

"Very well, _Mr. Snape_ – if this really is what you want – I couldn't change it without an official inquiry anyway." The Lady said and he quickly took the quill from the table and then signed the papers that lay there in front of him suddenly, without thinking, without considering what name he should use but using the one that came – and with the help of Madam Hanson as she had pronounced the _'Mr. Snape'_ so well – to his mind, with Harry Snape, his only wish that he could leave soon now.

"I hope you do realize, Mr. _Snape_, that you just have officially become the son of a criminal that has done terrible things." The woman asked and he took a deep breath. Why couldn't she just stop and let him go? He didn't care about what Snape had done and he wasn't even sure if it was true to begin with, this Lady had lied to him a moment ago after all, when she'd said that his father had been the reason for his parents' deaths and that he was a Death Eater and a follower to Voldemort. He knew that this wasn't true, that he was a spy. They'd talked about that after all!

And so he didn't give an answer just tried to not listen as good as possible while his shoulders threatened to burst with the strain he felt in them. He tried to loosen them, tried to think of his room at home, with the fire and the soft carpet where he could lay on, in front of the fire, especially now when it got colder outside, he tried to ignore the pain in his tense shoulders and back that became worse and worse and he tried to keep his breathing as even as possible, his fingers from shaking – but only when a hand was placed on his neck did he relax a bit. It was as if this particular hand was his anchor to reality, and looking up Harry could see his now officially new father standing there suddenly – and the always so calm face of his father calmed him down completely while the dark black eyes that could look so cold and harsh went soft for a short moment before they were back into a blazing cold fire when the older wizard looked up at the Lady.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_I wanted to make you and the boy happy_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

216 Points - Slytherin

173 Points - Ravenclaw

155 Points - Gryffindor

127 Points - Hufflepuff


	55. I wanted to make you and the boy happy

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

March, 26th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_And so he didn't give an answer just tried to not listen as good as possible while his shoulders threatened to burst with the strain he felt in them. He tried to loosen them, tried to think of his room at home, with the fire and the soft carpet where he could lie on, in front of the fire, especially now when it got colder outside, he tried to ignore the pain in his tense shoulders and back that became worse and worse and he tried to keep his breathing as even as possible, his fingers from shaking – but only when a hand was placed on his neck did he relax a bit. It was as if this particular hand was his anchor to reality, and looking up Harry could see his now officially new father standing there suddenly – and the always so calm face of his father calmed him down completely while the dark black eyes that could look so cold and harsh went soft for a short moment before they were back into a blazing cold fire when the older wizard looked up at the lady._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter fifty-five **

**I wanted to make you and the boy happy**

"I really would appreciate it, if you cease bullying my son." Severus drawled after he had made sure that Harry was alright and calm again. Never before had he felt the boy's emotions as deeply as he had now and the worry had been too overwhelming. He simply had ignored anything that would be considered as appropriate and had entered the office his son had vanished in, after he had felt the boy being so very upset so that even he, Snape, could feel it.

He knew that they had formed a familial bond by now, a bond only a father and his child could form, or a mother with her child, but he also knew that such a bond would not allow him to feel what his son felt – and therefore it must have been extremely what Harry had felt – what had been the reason as to why he simply had entered without having been given permission.

"Can we finish this process now so that I can take the child home for a much needed rest or do you plan on consulting the Wizengamot first?" He asked, coldly, his hand still on his son's neck to keep him calm. He knew what Hanson had said, he had heard the last sentence after all, and the fact that Harry was so very upset about it, having had signed the paper despite those words, it meant a lot to him, it meant the world to him.

"Very well." The idiot woman said, looking at him coldly. "Mr. Snape already has signed the papers, so it's your turn now."

Sneering at the woman he took the quill, released his son's neck and then took the papers to sign then – and his eyes fell onto the signature his son had done just moments ago.

Snape.

Harry Snape.

He stared at those words unbelievingly, unable to keep the soft "Merlin" from escaping his lips and for a moment he had to close his eyes. When he reopened them he quickly signed the papers himself, noticing that his hand was shaking, something that normally never happened, and then he turned back towards Harry, towards his son, the boy looking at him worriedly and scared again.

"Come here, son." He quietly said and the boy did, slowly coming close, his unsure green eyes never leaving his form. He clearly could see the boy's emotions over his face, over his stance, in his eyes – everywhere, as if he spoke them out aloud: _'What if he had overstepped a line? What if he had made him, his father, angry with it? What if he had done something horribly wrong? What if …?'_ He even could feel the child wanting to say something, could feel him being unable to do so and he could feel the panic rising within the small form of the ghost child.

Reaching over he cupped the back of the child's head and pulled him close until a pale forehead was leaning against his, Snape's stomach.

"You have done nothing wrong, Mr. Snape." He whispered against the child's hair while leaning down. "On the contrary, you could not have made me any prouder today."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Back at Hogwarts it wasn't as if Harry could have gone home to have a nap or at least lay at the sofa for a while before anything else as – they were guided into the great hall upon entering the castle, and a moment later they were greeted by half the school, teachers, ghosts and students alike awaiting them to celebrate the new familial bond that had been formed just moments ago – as if this bond had been formed upon a signature only. It had been formed throughout the past few weeks already so, nothing new here and he didn't understand why Albus had to make such a big deal out of the situation.

Harry finally noticed all the people gathered around and his face paled while he stood closer to his now official father, looking down at his shoes, as was his usual stance these days since he had come back from the summer holidays on September, first.

His stomach started to cramp and he felt himself starting to tremble, felt cold and hot at the same time and a moment later he could feel cold sweat running down his spine, wondering – and not for the first time – how that could happen to a ghost. None of the other ghosts ever had sweat running down their bodies! Why he?

And why couldn't they just leave him alone? Why had he to be here? What was it to them that he was now officially Snape's son? Nothing had changed except for his name, Harry Snape instead of Harry Potter! It wasn't their business! And what was more, he didn't like that there was now one more reason for him to be stared at. And students _were_ staring. Partly at him – again – but also partly at Snape. Judging from the confusion, then shock in their eyes, it was especially Snape's strange attire that was drawing their attention, the Potions Master wearing more private clothes than they ever had seen him in before, namely a black Jeans and a white shirt, because he hadn't had time to change before Dumbledore had ushered them into the great hall.

Feeling ill he wanted nothing else than going home and into his room and then to lay down and never ever again come forth from beneath his blankets! And he had enough of them! Snape fearing that he would freeze to death one night, as it seemed, because he had a soft, knitted blanket in his bed, a soft brown blankie – and no, he would not admit this to anyone except of his father ever – and he had his normal blanket, not to forget the second blanket that lay over the foot of his bed. In the nights he covered himself with the knitted blanket while he cuddled with the blankie – and only because the stupid thing lay in his bed and in the way – and then his father came in and covered him with the blanket as well. And later in the night his father always would come in when he slept and cover him, or at least his feet, with the second blanket, as if he would freeze to death one night, honestly!

And yet – he wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he enjoyed it.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Despite of the ruckus Dumbledore had organized, Snape was – more than mildly – proud of the boy and he placed a hand on his shoulder to show his approval, but a moment later he looked down with a frown on his face when Harry unconsciously leaned against his side, his stomach beginning to react to all the strain of this day if the boy running his arms around his stomach was any indication that he felt unwell and ill.

"What is wrong, Harry?" He asked as he felt the weight of the boy against his side and he kept the boy from pulling away the moment he had asked him, the child immediately feeling caught of having done something wrong. But – and how could it had been otherwise -

"Nothing sir." The child immediately answered and he knew – no way was Harry going to complain. That child had learned his lesson at the hands of his uncle, of Vernon Dursley too well, about telling anyone that he felt ill. It was well drilled into this child's head that under no circumstance was he to complain about anything that bothered him.

Looking down at the child he knew that it was more then just food and rest the child needed.

"Is there a special reason as to why you have asked us into the great hall except of celebrating with this – crowd of people, Albus?" He asked, his hand still on the boy's shoulder and he could feel the child trembling beside him.

"Isn't a celebration like this reason enough, my dear boy?" Albus smiled at him pleadingly. "I wanted to make up for what had happened and I wanted to make you and the boy happy."

"I do not appreciate crowded celebrations as you should well know by now, and Harry needs something to eat and some rest, not even more strenuous activities."

"Oh, but a celebration surely is nothing strenuous, my dear Severus." Albus chuckled and he growled deeply at the man. "And something to eat – here is enough, my boy. Harry can go and have some rest later. I have cancelled all classes for today afternoon after all."

A soft tug at the sleeve of his cloak made him looking down at his son, the boy giving away a quiet "'m fine, 's ok" and he frowned. The boy didn't look _'fine'_ and neither did he look as if it were _'ok'_.

"I rather would have you at home and resting instead of dealing with this here." He quietly said, his dark eyes never leaving the boy ghost.

"'S ok." The child insisted, again. "Really. Professor Dumbledore has done all this and surely I won't die just because of …"

"No, you probably won't." He growled, leading the boy to the Slytherin table. "I do not like being meddled over anyway and I expect you to inform me immediately if you feel any more unwell as you already do." He waited until he got a nod from the boy and then he cast one last glance at Draco, waited for a nod of that boy as well before he turned and went towards the head table. Draco would inform him of anything if Harry did not.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_So be it_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

220 Points - Slytherin

177 Points - Ravenclaw

157 Points - Gryffindor

128 Points - Hufflepuff


	56. so be it

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

Marach, 28th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_A soft tug at the sleeve of his cloak made him looking down at his son, the boy giving away a quiet "'m fine, it's ok" and he frowned. The boy didn't look 'fine' and neither did he look as if it were 'ok'. _

_"I rather would have you at home and resting instead of dealing with this here." He quietly said, his dark eyes never leaving the boy ghost._

_"'S ok." The child insisted, again. "Really. Professor Dumbledore has done all this and surely I won't die just because of …"_

_"No, you probably won't." He growled, leading the boy to the Slytherin table. "I do not like being meddled over anyway and I expect you to inform me immediately if you feel any more unwell as you already do." He waited until he got a nod from the boy and then he cast one last glance at Draco, waited for a nod of that boy as well before he turned and went towards the head table. Draco would inform him of anything if Harry did not._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter fifty-six **

**So be it**

It was an hour later that the Potions Master went over to the Slytherin table to pick up his son and go home.

"You are too pale for my liking." He quietly said, startling the boy that had been listening to a story Draco told the other first year boys. "Let's get you home." He didn't add the 'and into bed' part, knowing that most likely Harry would curse him if he did add such a thing in front of his new house – as ridiculous as it was, seeing that nearly all of his Slytherins had been at this particular point one day or another too – but well, none of them would like such a comment and surely not that child that had come into this house only a short time ago.

A moment later however he scowled in displeasure when the child stood – and swayed on his feet. Calmly he reached over and took the boy's upper arm to steady him and without a word he led the boy out of the great hall.

Another moment later he had to tighten his grip around the thin upper arm, the thought crossing his mind that he might crash that fragile limp accidentally, and he had to take his other hand for help to grab the ghost child's other upper arm to prevent his son going face first down towards the floor to have a closer look at the tiles.

He took a deep breath the moment he had the boy prevented from that and then pulled him closer, run his right arm behind his son's knees to simply lift him into his arms securely, once more frowning worriedly over the little weight he held in his arms before he hurried down to their quarters.

He of course could bring Harry to the infirmary and he knew that Poppy most likely would scold him for not doing just this, but he wanted the child at home and close to – his body, to the child that most likely soon would be either dead completely or alive as well, that soon would live together with them, because he was sure that Harry the ghost would not be ready to go back into his body in time. The little strength the child had left was already waning and he knew that it was a matter of two or three days by now, maybe even less.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

A moment later he stopped mid-step after he had entered his office, finding none other than Lucius Malfoy standing in the large room and chatting with Venenatus. The blond aristocrat turned the moment he heard him entering and his face immediately went paler than he ever had seen it – and that meant something, considering that a vampire's face barely could get much paler than it already was.

"What happened?" The blond Slytherin softly asked, his pale eyes on the child in his arms and he took a slow step towards him.

"It has been a strenuous day and the headmaster, in his oversized wisdom decided to have a party prepared the moment we came back from the ministry." He said. "I take it that you have come for celebration as well?"

"Actually – yes." Lucius answered, stepping out of his way when he came close to the door that led to his quarters. "Even if not in such a big style as Dumbledore, I would have been happy with a mug of your mead. However, when you wrote that you'd be to the ministry today I wanted to warn you about Hanson being on charge, but I guessed that you wouldn't have enough time to wait a week until Harvest was back."

"Unfortunately – no." He quietly answered, placing his hand onto the door and then opening it, stepping through the doorway and into his private quarters.

"I do hope that she didn't give you too much trouble, Severus." The blond Malfoy head of house growled and he sighed.

"No." He answered. "But he gave Harry too much trouble. I actually could feel him being upset _through_ the closed door of her office and I only can hope that I went inside in time to prevent any more harm done than already is with this blasted boy. Sadly I couldn't do too much concerning Hanson as my first priority was getting my son out of there but she definitely will hear from me at a later point of time."

Lucius Malfoy was more than mildly worried when he saw Severus carrying the still body of his son, the Potions Master's face pale and the black eyes that were just the more intense in this pale face expressing emotions he hadn't seen in them for a very, very long time, for many years actually.

"I take it that this might have worsened his situation?" He asked while closing the door, watching the man carrying the child's ghostlike body through his quarters and then laying the small body onto the sofa, immediately going over to his kitchen and he knew that most likely the man would get a potion from his laboratory below. Severus wasn't one of the best Potions Masters worldwide for nothing and so he surely would have something that could make the child feeling better.

A moment later the man already hurried back and to his immense shock, Severus knelt beside the couch on which he had laid Harry. He slowly extended his hand and softly as a whisper smoothed the dark hair, muttering soft and comforting words into the unconscious child's ears before he opened the first two buttons of the boy's shirt and then rubbed some salve on the boy's chest, causing the child to shiver and to softly whimper even in unconsciousness.

He doubted that anyone would catch the softly whispered words, but little if anything escaped a vampire's ears and he easily could hear Severus telling Harry that he was safe now and that he wouldn't be hurt, that he wouldn't allow anyone to ever hurt him again. Amazingly, where the history between one Severus Snape and one Harry Potter was unrivalled throughout the entire last year – Harry's shivering now got lesser and his soft whimpering quieted. He even leaned into the soft caresses of Severus' hand and he himself sighed.

That was, what should have been for all those years!

That was, what he knew from those two, Severus and Harry Snape, and only Lily now was missed from this picture.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Later in the afternoon the Potions Master had Harry sitting on the sofa, not allowing the boy to get up to even walk to the bathroom alone and he felt a bit more than – embarrassed, especially with Lucius Malfoy sitting there, Draco's father. He still hadn't found out what their relations were, but what he definitely knew was – the blond man looked like a vampire, just with less large and sharp fangs.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He knew meanwhile that Lucius Malfoy and his father were very close friends – even if the two of them had gotten into a rather loud and angry quarrel the moment he, Harry, had been awake and had recovered from whatever it was he'd had to recover from in the first place, over Lucius Malfoy not telling him about him, Harry, being his son and Lucius telling him that he only had tried to keep both of them safe as the headmaster had threatened him with both their safeties, with Severus' and his, Harry's – or at least something along those lines. Well, a fact that had him still startled and he knew that maybe he'd made the right decision in not trusting the old wizard so much anymore, at least not as much as he'd trusted him last year.

And then he had learned that his father was Draco's godfather, that Lucius had been friends with his mother as well, that Draco's mother was some kind of cousin to Severus and that …

"So be it." Severus' resolute voice got him out of his thoughts and he looked over at the man, questioningly.

"I fear that your son has been elsewhere with his mind, my dear Severus." Draco's father said and he looked from one to the other, the blond man smirking at the black haired man and the black haired man giving away a suffering sigh at the blond man.

"Yes, I can see that." Snape said, lifting his eyebrow. "I have just appointed Lucius Malfoy as your godfather, seeing that you do need one." The man then explained and he had the impression that he wanted to add something but then didn't. "I do hope that you are amenable with having a godfather that is a vampire."

"You really thought of giving me …" Harry gasped, looking to and fro between Lucius Malfoy and his father. "I've never before had a godfather!" He then added, and suddenly he was unsure of what to do. He would like hugging his father who was so considerable to give him anything he just _could_ need even, while he at the other hand knew that Snape of all people surely wouldn't want being hugged in front of Malfoy. He knew how private a man his father was after all – a moment later he didn't fight against his impulse to hug the Potions Master anymore and threw himself at the man.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Surprised by the emotional outburst Severus almost lost his balance, but he recovered quickly. He was working with bloody emotional children in his house since more than ten years now after all and so he was used to first year Slytherins smiling and laughing happily in front of him, throwing themselves at him to hug him or clinging to him and smearing snot and tears all over his robes. Taking a deep breath Severus patted Harry's head. "It is a godfather only, Harry, and any child should have one."

"Uhm … know … it's just … and I _did_ never have one … and sorry 'cause … well, _this_ … " Harry murmured into his chest and he was sure that the always so pale child had blushed deeply.

"No explanation necessary, Harry." Severus inwardly smiled, not ready yet to tell the child differently, that he actually had a godfather, but that said godfather was a mass murderer that was in jail. "Whenever you feel like hugging me, just do it."

"Yes, Mr. Snape, your father here is a hugging monster himself." Lucius said teasingly, giving away a quiet and deep laugh.

A moment later he frowned at Harry's startled face and then the boy shooting up from the sofa and running over to his room. It took him another moment during which he blinked stupidly into the direction of the child's room before he had comprehended the situation completely and then looked at Lucius who was about to get up while he threw a worried look at Severus as well.

"Stay, I will take care of him." The younger of the two said and headed for the bedroom to which Harry had fled, knowing that Harry might be happy about having Lucius as his godfather – at least it had seemed that he was a moment ago – but that he surely would not trust the blond enough by now to have him in his room and in a situation where he was upset no less. Not yet.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_Wake up, Harry_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

223 Points - Slytherin

178 Points - Ravenclaw

159 Points - Gryffindor

129 Points - Hufflepuff


	57. wake up, Harry!

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

March, 30th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"No explanation necessary, Harry." Severus inwardly smiled. "Whenever you feel like hugging me, just do it."_

_"Yes, Mr. Snape, your father here is a hugging monster himself." Lucius said teasingly, giving away a quiet and deep laugh._

_A moment later he frowned at Harry's startled face and then the boy shooting up from the sofa and running over to his room. It took him another moment during which he blinked stupidly into the direction of the child's room before he had comprehended the situation completely and then looked at Lucius who was about to get up while he threw a worried look at Severus as well._

_"Stay, I will take care of him." The younger of the two said and headed for the bedroom to which Harry had fled, knowing that Harry might be happy about having Lucius as his godfather – at least it had seemed that he was a moment ago – but that he surely would not trust the blond enough by now to have him in his room and in a situation where he was upset no less. Not yet._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter fifty-seven **

**Wake up, Harry!**

Carefully, Severus opened the door and peeked in.

Seeing that Harry just stood in front of the window, he stepped in and closed the door behind him.

"What has happened?" He softly asked. "You actually _ran_ from the room."

"Nothing, sir, sorry." The boy said and frowning he took a few steps closer until he was standing behind the boy.

"I am sure that _'nothing'_ is not the correct answer." He said, placing his hand atop the bony shoulder and then turning the child. "I do understand if you are not amenable with Lucius being your godfather, seeing that he is not only Draco's father but a …"

"No!" The boy said, startled, and he knew that this had not been the problem – what only deepened his frown.

"Then what exactly _is_ the problem, Harry?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at the child. "And do not tell me that there is none."

"It's …" The boy started before he took a deep breath. "It's just that … I've never realized that … I've always hugged you, but I've never thought 'bout you and if you'd feel uncomfortable and now Mr. Malfoy said you'd be a … and now I thought of you always valuing your privacy so much and I have just invaded your privacy and now even Mr. Malfoy knows and …"

"Harry!" He called out, startled. "Stop this nonsense right now!" The boy looked up at him with his pale face and his wide green eyes and he took a deep breath before he pulled the boy's head close until the pale forehead rested against his stomach. "I have to admit that yes, I am a very private person and I do try to appear as indifferent and as cold as possible whenever I do leave these quarters and have to deal with the world out there, including students and colleagues. And nevertheless I am a human being and I do have a different side to the cold bastard that is your Potions Master. My Slytherins are the only ones who know this particular side of mine, Lucius does know this side, Minerva – and your mother knew it. And now you do. I do not expect you to ignore it, because as cold as I might appear out there, even I do feel – _affected_ – by my son clinging to me in his overemotional foolishness. I only expect you to keep private what happens here in privacy as I will do the same in regards to your privacy."

"So Mr. Malfoy didn't mean it in a sarcastic way?" The boy asked, small arms coming around his waist hesitantly. "And you don't mind?"

"You are my son, Harry." He sighed. "And so no, I do not mind."

"But you would if I weren't?" The insufferable child asked and he took another deep breath.

"No, I neither would mind if you were not my son." He then said, increasing his grip on the child's head so that the boy couldn't pull away. "You are living with me since one and a half months now, Harry. Do you not think that what I am feeling towards you is not dependent on our familial relations? I have learned to know you, Harry, not the boy that I have seen last year and I do regret deeply not having seen _you_ last year. I would do anything to make it undone, but this is something I am not able to."

The boy clinging to him tightened his grip again while small shoulders started to shake and he knew – once more his robes were smeared with snot and tears.

"And nevertheless – you are my son and no one can change that now, not even you or me." He softly said while carding his fingers through the boy's hair. "And a son that has made me very proud today by taking my family name." He then added, leading the boy out of his room and back into the living room, relieved that now he wouldn't have to constantly battle with the Ministry – or Albus – and that Harry had opened up to him while Harry at the same time was relieved to have a real family for once and that Severus had listened to him and had talked to him, but especially that his father was proud of him for taking on the Snape name. Maybe his life really started to become normal – well, except for the fact that he was a ghost, that was.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The remainder of the afternoon had been peaceful. They'd had tea and hot chocolate in Harry's case, and Lucius had made his fun about it, about him, the dark and cold Potions Master that gave a child – _hot chocolate_.

"I rather have him drinking hot chocolate than anything else as it has a lot of calories and he does need any calorie he can get to begin with." He had growled darkly at the other wizard. "The boy is still far too thin as it is!"

"Of course, my dear Severus." Lucius had smirked at him. "I never would accuse you of presenting your son with anything he would like. You only order him to drink this stuff he surely does not like because it is nutrient."

"Exactly." He had said, smirking at the blond man.

"But I like it?" The boy's quiet comment that had reminded him more of a question than of a statement had made both adult wizards smile with amusement.

"Of course you do, child." He had said, running his hand through the boy's hair.

Getting off the sofa wearily he prepared for bed, smirking at the sight of his twelve year old ghost son. The boy had already fallen asleep on the sofa, his arms laying across a book, and the pages rustled while the child breathed evenly. He couldn't suppress a smile while he pulled the book from beneath the sleeping boy's arms and then summoned a blanket, threw it cautiously over the sleeping form.

He knew that – would he now try to lift the child and to get him into his own bed, he would wake and most likely he wouldn't be able falling asleep until much later, and so he left him laying on the sofa, knowing that if Harry woke in the middle of the night he would be able to get him back to sleep easier than now.

After watching the sleeping boy for a few moments he finally went towards the bathroom to prepare for bed.

Lucius had left after dinner. He had called Draco over after the boy's afternoon lessons and it had been nice, having both boys, Draco and Harry together with Lucius, and he imagined how it would be if he had Harry's body sitting with them as well.

He still knew how dangerous it was, trying to keep both boys alive while being separated, but Harry was dying anyway and there was no sign of the child ever going back into his body. The child, both forms of the child, were getting weaker not only on a daily basis but nearly every hour. He nearly could watch the child getting weaker and stiller, calmer, more tired and more exhausted. And he was not ready to lose him, never mind the risks he was taking, his son was dying and he was not ready for that. So if this potions were the only way, if they were the only chances for the child to survive, even if only maybe, then he would take this chance in the end.

Having one last look at the boy on the sofa he again for a moment wondered if he should take the boy to his bed where he surely would sleep more comfortably than here on the sofa, but then he discarded the thought. The boy was sleeping right now and right now he was sleeping well as it seemed. The sofa was large and the boy so small – it was as if he were laying in a bed instead of the sofa anyway, he shouldn't risk waking the boy who most likely wouldn't be able falling asleep anytime soon then. Barely able to keep his hand from traitorously reaching out towards the child and running through soft black hair he turned and then went into his own bedroom, leaving the door open, just in case.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Slight movement beside him got him awake and in the second between sleeping and waking he realized that it wasn't the first time tonight that he woke from a slight dozing rather than a deep sleep. Taking a deep breath he tried to remember the start of a dream he'd had, and he knew that it had been the start of a dream only, he hadn't been dozing off for long enough to have had a real dream. It had been something that had concerned Harry and –

And that's when the Potions Master became aware that a smaller, more slender body was pressed against him, radiating comforting warmth and he looked down to find Harry sleeping next to him, too close for comfort. A very rare surprised look appeared on his stern features which soon turned to something akin to pity. Even _he_ had to admit he felt for the small child. First Harry had to grow without parents, then he gets abused by his aunt and uncle, after that he even got abused by him, Snape, his own father – and the boy had known that he'd been his father from the beginning on – well, he had died even and now he had to live with his mean potions professor, said man who had made his potions lessons a living hell despite that he'd been his father, and to top it all off he now finds that some of his fellow students were hating him for just that, for having died – and he had taken all of this stoically, with a stoicism that made him wonder why and how.

Another moment later the slight movement that had woken him repeated itself and this time he clearly could notice that it was a jerking movement, as if the boy were trying to defend himself against an unseen attacker while at the same time a soft whimper escaped his throat. It was clear that the child was having a nightmare and gently he reached over to shake the small ghastly form – without success and he called the boy's name while shaking the small shoulder anew.

It was again – without success.

"Wake up, Harry." He said, softly, gripping the boy's shoulder and drawing him up – to have the child fighting him tooth and nail from one moment to the other, small limbs flailing and fists hitting, feet kicking, while the boy screamed a blood curdling scream.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_Highway to hell_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

228 Points - Slytherin

179 Points - Ravenclaw

161 Points - Gryffindor

130 Points - Hufflepuff


	58. highway to hell

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

April, 2nd 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Another moment later the slight movement that had woken him repeated itself and this time he clearly could notice that it was a jerking movement, as if the boy were trying to defend himself against an unseen attacker while at the same time a soft whimper escaped his throat. It was clear that the child was having a nightmare and gently he reached over to shake the small ghastly form _– _without success and he called the boy's name while shaking the small shoulder anew. _

_It was again – without success. _

_"Wake up, Harry." He said, softly, gripping the boy's shoulder and drawing him up – to have the child fighting him tooth and nail from one moment to the other, small limbs flailing and fists hitting, feet kicking while the boy screamed a blood curdling scream. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter fifty-eight **

**Highway to hell**

"Stop this, Harry!" He said, trying to get fully awake while at the same time get a hold at the flailing and screaming boy and avoiding being hit by either a fist or a foot. "Wake up! This is only a dream, come now, wake up, child."

For a moment he wondered why the child had come to his bed, if he'd maybe had a nightmare before and then had come to his, Snape's, room for comfort. But if so, then when had he done so and how had he managed to get into his bed without waking him? It wasn't as if he didn't have a light sleep after all. He was used to getting awake by the slightest noise or movement around him. Draco even accused him that a spider crawling over the floor beneath his bed would wake him.

Just the more remarkable it was that Harry had managed to crawl into his _bed_ even without him noticing. But maybe he had managed because he was a ghost?

"Calm down, child!" He growled, wide awake by now and finally having managed to grab the child around his shoulders and to turn him so that he could pull him with his back against his chest so that he couldn't hurt himself accidentally with his flailing. A moment later he had the boy's head hitting his chest and knocking the air out of his lungs.

"Merlin!" He gasped, trying to get back his breath. "Stop this! You are safe! Harry! Stop!"

But it was without success again and even while he tightened the grip of his left arm around the boy's shoulder and then placed his right hand over the boy's forehead to press his head against his shoulder and to effectively prevent him hitting his head back again – the child started to squirm in his grip like an eel and another moment later the boy had managed to squirm free, scuffling away from him and falling off the bed in the process, hitting his back on the nightstand and giving away another sharp scream of pain.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Severus knew that the boy surely was awake by now, but he also knew that this dream had to be worse then any other dream he'd had before. It had never taken Harry this long to calm after a nightmare since he had come to live with him and his reactions after a nightmare had never before been as violent as it were right now.

Throwing off his blanket he got off the bed and went over to the corner the child had scrambled to, trying to be as less intimidating as possible, nearly coming closer on his knees.

Merlin! What had that particular dream been about so that the child would show such a strong reaction?

"You are safe, Harry." He quietly said while inching closer. "It has been a dream only and you are safe, no one will ever hurt you again, just come here to me."

"No!" It was the first word the boy gave away, but it was a high pitched and panicked scream while the boy at the same time kicked out his feet as if to warn him to not come closer and he frowned. This really was not normal and throwing caution over board he knew that he had to react now. So he leaned closer and a moment later he had the boy back in the same grip as he'd had him before, but this time he placed his leg over the boy's legs to keep him from squirming too much.

It wasn't as if the boy wouldn't try and he wondered where the child took the strength from, but he didn't manage to get free this time. And nevertheless he was more than worried. Not only was it not normal that the child still was in the midst of a panic attack, but he also could feel Harry's heart beat racing through his chest and after a few minutes awake Harry was still muttering as Severus held him and rubbed his back, trying to calm him in any way he could.

In the end he accioed a calming draught as he was more than just slightly worried over how fast the boy's heart was racing, not to mention the child clearly hyperventilating by now.

"Drink." He ordered, knowing that he would get nowhere with kind and pleading words – the boy tried to shake his head and to get out of his grasp somehow.

"Stop this, now!" He ordered, tightening his grip. "And drink! Now! Swallow!"

A moment later his world seemed to explode.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

_He saw Harry laying in his cupboard, already beaten into a bloody mess, while Dursley approached with a cane in his hand._

_He could feel Harry's fear and pain, the utter terror, and he could see the boy shaking uncontrollably in his mind._

_He could see the same boy laying in a corner while Dursley brought down a belt onto his back over and over again._

_He could feel the child tensing to a point where surely he was to snap while struggling with holding back his cries of pain. _

_He saw Harry being thrown back by Vernon Dursley, against a wall that was lined with a workbench, and even before the small body hit the edge of the bench he knew that it would break the boy's fragile back bone _– _a moment later he could hear the cracking sound and the child's screams of pain while the small body hit the floor._

_But then the memory was pushed down into blackness and Harry's owl came into view, Hedwig, if he was correct, an owl so beautiful he always had watched the bird when it entered the great hall during breakfast to nibble at the boy's fingers, begging for food, even back then when in his eyes the boy had been Potter's spawn, the animal now sitting in her cage silently and staring at the boy with fear in much too intelligent dark eyes._

_Another flash of Dursley with a cane, with a belt, with a knife – before the memory once more changed to the boy's familiar, the owl staring back. _

And suddenly he understood!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry had not only taken the abuse without ever complaining because he'd had no other chance, but because he had been trying to keep his owl safe while his uncle had increased the abuse this summer to push the child into any reaction so that he could blame the boy for killing the owl. And now the child even was pushing the abuse he had suffered, he still suffered from, out of his memories to – to what? To still keep the owl safe? Was Harry still protecting his owl? Was Dursley still holding Harry's owl to keep the boy quiet?

"Hush, child." He softly murmured between flashes of Vernon Dursley lifting a cane or a belt high into the air before bringing the beating instrument back down onto a small child. "You're quite safe, and I'll make sure that your owl is safe too. I'll go back to the Dursleys to get her and I'll bring …" It was another "no" and the boy increasing his struggle, increasing his squirming and kicking at anything he might reach that got his worries up like a rocket.

He tried to get Harry's attention while he was in his memories still, but the child was so far gone that he didn't even seem to understand what he wanted of him, let alone react in any form possible. Finally he forced himself out of the boy's memories and then called out for his house elf.

A second later the small creature was beside him, large eyes watching the scene startled while large ears seemed to flap for a moment.

"Get a calming draught and a pain reliever, and mix both potions together." He ordered his house elf, knowing that Zilly would manage. Zilly was the house elf of a Potions Master after all and he often had asked the small creature for help, was even sure that at least until seventh grade Zilly would be able brewing each potion he taught at Hogwarts without his help if necessary.

So he knew that no further instructions about how to mix them was needed and when the house elf came back a minute later, holding a vial with a purple potion, he knew that it was the one he wanted. He wordlessly took the small glass container, placed it at Harry's lips and then dipped the vial to pour its contents into the boy's mouth.

Again, like he had done twice now with the child since he had come here he clasped his hand over the boy's mouth and nose, while pulling him closer even.

"Just swallow the potion, Harry." He instructed. "I will release you the moment you have swallowed, come now, child, Merlin, please! Just do it for me, child! I promise I will release you the moment you have swallowed this potion."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_Welcome to hell_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

232 Points - Slytherin

184 Points - Ravenclaw

168 Points - Gryffindor

131 Points - Hufflepuff


	59. welcome to hell

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

April, 4th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Zilly would be able brewing each potion he taught at Hogwarts without his help if necessary. _

_So he knew that no further instructions about how to mix them was needed and when the house elf came back a minute later, holding a vial with a purple potion, he knew that it was the one he wanted. He wordlessly took the small glass container, placed it at Harry's lips and then dipped the vial to pour its contents into the boy's mouth._

_Again, like he had done twice now with the child since he had come here he clasped his hand over the boy's mouth and nose, while pulling him closer even. _

_"Just swallow the potion, Harry." He instructed. "I will release you the moment you have swallowed, come now, child, Merlin, please! Just do it for me, child! I promise I will release you the moment you have swallowed this potion."_

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter fifty-nine **

**Welcome to hell **

Again, like he had done twice now with the child since he had come here he clasped his hand over the boy's mouth and nose, while pulling him closer even.

"Just swallow the potion, Harry." He instructed. "I will release you the moment you have swallowed, come now, child, Merlin, please! Just do it for me, child! I promise I will release you the moment you have swallowed this potion."

The only thing that happened was a small body in his arms getting rigid, thin legs kicking out again and he wasn't sure if the child in his arms even realized that he wasn't in front of him anymore but behind him, that he only kicked at thin air, or if the boy again just kicked to say "stay away from me!" to threaten anyone who _might_ be close to him, who _could_ harm him.

_Another memory, one of Vernon Dursley's hands around a skinny neck, and he could feel the boy ceasing his struggle, going limp, reaching the edge of consciousness and a moment later he could feel him swallowing._ He immediately took his hand off Harry's mouth, not sure if the small body going limp really had been a memory or if he really had reached the edge of consciousness.

The child however pulling his head away and throwing it back against his chest again the moment he had released him showed that – it had been a memory and the child was well away from that edge, and quickly he placed his hand at the pale forehead to once more restrain Harry's head against his shoulder, ignoring the pain in his chest and ignoring the horror he felt at the scene at all.

On one hand he was glad that the child tried to defend himself in the first place, hoping that he had given Vernon Dursley the same trouble he was giving him right now, but on the other hand – not only did he knw that the boy had not defended himself against his uncle, because somehow he knew that this here, this need to defend himself, that it was new, but also did he know that – _if_ he had given Vernon Dursley the same trouble, then that might have been the reason as to why Vernon Dursley had become violently enough in his abuse of the child to kill his own nephew. Not that it was a sensible reason, but apparently a reason to Dursley.

Well, it took the potion less than three minutes to kick in, the child getting calmer and calmer until he ceased his struggle completely and then he had a very still child in his arms, a child so still that it was scary after the violent struggle the boy had done before. Getting off the floor he gently lifted the still body into his arms and then started his way to Harry's room.

There would be no chance that the child would be able going to classes today – and neither would he.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

_A small child was sitting in a cupboard, the very cupboard he, Snape, had taken the boy's body from, but the child wasn't a twelve year old but too small child. It was a child that couldn't be older than six or seven years old, even if he took into consideration how small for his age he knew the child was. The small and thin figure was rocking back and forth, back and forth, like in trace, while pressing small and thin arms to his stomach in an attempt to hug himself, hungry eyes in a thin and pale face fixed to the door of the cupboard and he could hear laugher at the other side of the door while the smell of roasted almonds wavered into the cupboard, a child laughing happily along with the booming laugher of an adult while Christmas chorals were playing in the background. He could hear paper being torn apart and he knew – most likely Dudley Dursley, Harry's cousin, was sitting beneath the Christmas tree, opening his presents._

_A moment later the slits of the air conditioner installed into the cupboard door opened, those close to the ground and a plate with roasted potatoes, a steak and grilled corn was placed at the ground in front of the door._

_"Enjoy, freak." Was heard from a male's voice and then Vernon Dursley left, leaving the plate in front of the open slits of the air conditioner, untouchable and out of reach for the child inside, but the smell of the delicious food going in, teasing the child's mind and stomach, hurting him physically as well as mentally while the child itself lay down onto a stained baby mattress, thin arms wound tightly around a thin stomach while silent tears ran down a pale face and the child tried to rock himself to sleep, a whispered "why … please … why don't you get me, dad?" on his lips._

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Forcing himself out of the child's memories again, his hands tightening protectively around the small ghost form of his son, he nearly stumbled, his body only _then_ noticing that he already had reached the child's room, only _then_ noticing the change in environment, his feet hitting the thick carpet suddenly – he was already through the door of the child's room and went towards the bed, nearly blind with the burning of his eyes at not only the scene he had witnessed a second ago but at the child's words as well.

So the boy had already known when he'd been so small, and no one had come.

So the child _had_ asked for him to come and get him only Merlin knew how often – but no one had ever come.

So the child _had_ felt the disappointment of being abandoned by his own father – and he, Severus Snape, he had thought that the child would be a spoiled prince!

He managed to place the small body onto the soft bed in his room and he even managed to cover the ghostlike and trembling form of his son before the next onslaught of memories washed over him, another hour of memories with the Dursleys he witnessed, another hour that dragged by painfully slowly, sporting several broken bones, bad cases of starvation and internal injuries which were severe enough so that they normally would have led to a few hospital visits, but the boy never had been taken to a hospital, a reminder of how strong this child's magic was, his magic being the only thing keeping him alive over and over again and for so long – until in the end it had given halfway anyway, the child ending up as a half-ghost of some sort.

And despite the hell he found himself in, he did not pull his hand away from the pale forehead, did not pull himself out of his son's mind, unable to leave the boy alone right now. He didn't know if it even would make any difference, if the ghostlike child even noticed his presence in his mind, but he didn't care, he nevertheless stayed and watched and tried to at least being there even if he couldn't do anything – because while he had watched Harry throughout the past few days and weeks, because while he had watched him fighting, fighting to keep his fears under control, fighting to keep his pain under control, and fighting to keep his despair under control, while he had watched him trying to please and to give his best efforts, his respect and toleration for the boy had been steadily growing, as had his affection for the child.

But by what he had seen right now – Merlin, how could he make anything good for the child? How could he ease any of the pain the child surely must feel? How could he safe this child and raise him to become an – at least somewhat – normal teenager and adult? How?

He immediately knew that the answer was – never.

This child always would suffer from those years with the Dursleys, even if he were a young adult – if he were to survive so far, that was – he would suffer and there was nothing he, Snape, could do against it. Maybe he would be able to help ease the pain with time, but it always would be there, he knew, not even he, as experienced as he was when it came to child abuse and the aftermath of it – not even he would be able battling such pain.

And it wasn't any child even – it was his son!

Looking down he breathed a sigh of relief at his son having fallen asleep in his arms and he leaned back against the headboard of the child's bed, allowing himself to relax too while his traitorous fingers unconsciously moved to run over the pale forehead and through the damp hair.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_Famous last words_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

235 Points - Slytherin

185 Points - Ravenclaw

172 Points - Gryffindor

140 Points - Hufflepuff


	60. famous last words

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

April, 6th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_But by what he had seen right now – Merlin, how could he make anything good for the child? How could he ease any of the pain the child surely must feel? How could he safe this child and raise him to become an – at least somewhat – normal teenager and adult? How?_

_He immediately knew that the answer was – never._

_This child always would suffer from those years with the Dursleys, even if he were a young adult – if he were to survive so far, that was – he would suffer and there was nothing he, Snape, could do against it. Maybe he would be able to help ease the pain with time, but it always would be there, he knew, not even he, as experienced as he was when it came to child abuse and the aftermath of it – not even he would be able battling such pain._

_And it wasn't any child even – it was his son!_

_Looking down he breathed a sigh of relief at his son having fallen asleep in his arms and he leaned back against the headboard of the child's bed, allowing himself to relax too while his traitorous fingers unconsciously moved to run over the pale forehead and through the damp hair._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter sixty **

**Famous last words**

The next morning came and removing himself from the boy's grasp he carefully climbed out of the bed and proceeded to just as carefully creep to the bathroom to take a shower and get dressed, again wondering what he could do to make it any easier for the child, his son.

"'M sorry." Came the softly murmured words from his son and he turned nearly sighing. He had hoped that the boy would sleep longer than just those few hours between the early morning hours and now. The child needed rest, especially after the last night.

"There is no reason for you to apologize." He softly said, approaching the bed his son was meanwhile sitting in. "You have been captured in a violent nightmare and we have dealt with it, you have done nothing wrong."

"Have." The boy murmured and it was clear that he did remember what had happened the night before. "Have hit you." The boy then murmured.

"That might be, but at the same time you have reassured me that if you ever will be in danger, your attacker will have a very hard time to get to you and anyone attempting to hurt you better prepare for a fight that is worth being mentioned."

"Really?" The boy asked, peering up at him between strands of black hair and he took a deep breath, wincing at the pain this move caused in his chest where the boy had hit his head twice last night.

"Really." He answered. "I have hardly ever had to fight anyone like I'd had to fight you last night, and believe me, I am used to fighting in not only wizarding ways."

Well, the idiot child must have seen him wincing when he had drawn a deep breath because he looked down again, apologizing.

"Like I said – there is no need to apologize." He said, sitting down onto the edge of the bed. "Any attacker should be prepared for a lot of pain if attacking you and I am glad to know that you are able defending yourself so well."

"Haven't 'gainst un'le V'non." The boy murmured, averting his eyes and playing with the hem of his pyjama top.

"What do you think would have happened if you ever had tried to defend yourself against your uncle?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at his son. It really was time to pay a visit to his loving brother in law. He would do so after he had made sure that Harry would survive – in his ghost form or in his physical form, either way, he didn't care as long as he _did_ survive.

"He'd kill me." The boy murmured back at him.

"He would _have_ killed you, is the keyword Harry, because you won't go back there ever." He said, frowning while he thought that – actually, he already _had_ killed the child – in a way at least.

There was no answer.

"Exactly, child." He sighed, reaching out to run his hand through the black mop of hair before he placed his palm at a pale cheek. "You have been in no position to defend yourself against that man, Harry, and you are not to blame yourself for not doing so. It actually might have been the more intelligent decision that might have saved your life so far and it only is proof of your strength that you have lived through all the abuse for so long without once faltering and doing something stupid."

Well, the child only huffed for a moment before he sighed.

"Have hurt you, and you should hate me." Harry managed to say between half-sobs. "Why don't you?"

"Because I – because I love you, Harry." Was Severus' calm answer after a moment of hesitation as if he had to consider how to express this bit of information, about love of all things. "And because you do not deserve to be hated. You very much deserve to be loved like any other child, Harry."

Well, maybe the stupid Potions Master shouldn't have said this, because he couldn't help believing the man's words and soon Harry's sobs reached a near hysterical level, sobbing and crying again like a fool, but then he felt the weight from his guardian's hand release his cheek, moments before a strong arm reached out and pulled him tightly against a warm chest.

'_Because I love you.' H_e replayed the words in his head, mentally holding onto them the same as he continued to physically hold onto Severus Snape, the stupid Potions Master.

"Won't hurt you 'gain." The boy murmured. "Next time I'll get 'wake quicker."

"Famous last words." Severus replied with a shaking of his head, although he still kept his arms tightly encircled around the infuriating boy.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It was later in the day, shortly before lunchtime, when Binns stuck his head through the floo in his potions classroom, calling out to him in a clearly panicked voice and cursing under his breath he threw the quill onto the table, cast a quick stasis spell over the cauldrons and then dismissed the startled seventh year Slytherins and Ravenclaws.

They were experienced enough with his ways so that they all were out of his classroom within a minute and then he quickly threw floo powder into the fireplace in his office, calling out for Binn's office, all the while wondering how Harry had managed to sneak out of his room and into the history of magic classroom.

He had explicitly forbidden the boy to visit classes anytime soon and he himself had given all his potions classes below NEWT over to the headmaster while he had thought that he could leave the boy alone for ninety minutes today and tomorrow. Apparently he had thought wrong and scowling he stepped out of the fireplace and into the office of the only ghost teacher at Hogwarts. It was empty.

Going over to the history classroom he opened the door without even knocking first and then entered the classroom – to find it without a teacher and without his son either.

He noticed his godson looking over at him with a pale face, sitting in the classroom amongst the other second year students and reading a part in his history book which Binns apparently had appointed to them while he was gone. Theodore looked just as worried, as did Blaze, Longbottom and Granger. The rest of his Slytherins looked startled, as if they didn't know what exactly was going on and Weasley, Thomas and Finnigan even smirked – what caused his facial expression to darken considerably and to harden. If those three had anything to do with whatever problem had occurred, then they definitely would find themselves in a world of trouble.

Draco said something but he didn't even listen to the boy while he without a question turned and went back into the office he just had left, taking the floo powder from the mantle and throwing it into the fireplace. He knew where he would find the history teacher and the missing student that happened to be his wayward son!

How had that blasted brat managed to leave their quarters, his office and then his classroom while he had been _inside_ there teaching the seventh years? That boy would find himself in deep trouble as soon as he was back to health and –

But he wouldn't ever be back to health, he suddenly realized. And if he had floated through the walls to sneak out, like all the ghosts did, like he had done a few days ago to listen to the conversation he'd had with Minerva a few days earlier, then it only was proof of how very much of a ghost the child already was, his son was.

He was a ghost, a dead child, and he never would be back to health.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The moment he stepped out of the infirmary floo – he'd had no idea of the emotional flood that would hit him at the sight of his son, laying on one of those beds and rocking back and forth in apparent pain. Merlin! He had seen the torture the boy had endured at the hands of his uncle and for years, he had felt the fear and the humiliation, the despair the boy had went through and for another moment he wondered how Harry could even be sound after that amount of abuse.

But right now Snape's heart just broke at the sight of the unresponsive boy that only was laying there on the bed, rocking back and forth and back and forth, and he wanted nothing more than to fix things for him and make them right while he wondered if the child really was so sound still like he made himself belief. Maybe it only had been wishful thinking.

"What happened, Cuthbert?" He softly asked while taking the boy's shoulders, prepared to have the child hitting and kicking at him like he'd done the night before, but nothing happened, only the rocking motions getting more forceful than they had been a moment ago and he tightened his grip, trying to stop the child's frantic rocking motions.

"He dropped." Binns said while Poppy was running a diagnostic, the pale eyes of the ghost teacher resting on the ghost child that gave a distressed sound away at being held, at being kept from his rocking movements as if he needed any way of outlet, never mind what kind of outlet. "I didn't have time to call up the monitoring charm I have on my classroom to see what exactly had caused it, I never do normally, but well, from what I have seen, he had dropped and hit his head at one of the chairs. I am sure I have seen him falling with his chest against one of the desks as well, but I'm not sure of that. I immediately contacted you and then brought him here."

"I do thank you, Cuthbert." He said while starting to undress the boy. "Not only for taking care of the situation but for acknowledging the fact that it is my son and that I might want to be informed if something happened to him." He then added while he frowned – yes, there indeed was a nasty bruise forming over Harry's chest, a new bruise that had not been there and he wondered – would this one stay like the others? Or would it vanish like the older bruises had before he had become a ghost as it had nothing to do with his death?

Feeling with his fingers over the boy's ribs, he caused the child to whimper out in pain but he easily could notice the broken rib and he summoned a small vial of skele-gro to rub it over the broken bone, remembering the memory he just last night had seen, a small and hungry child in a cupboard that was beaten and kicked at until the fragile bones broke.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"I am trying to not being so strict with you, seeing that you've had enough on your shoulders so far, but there is a certain behaviour that I will _not_ tolerate!" He said, only hours later. He had healed the boy's broken rib and he had healed the boy's cut on the side of his head. He had given him a pain reliever and a calming draught and he had gotten him into a deep sleep for the next few hours so that he could heal peacefully while he himself had sat onto the chair beside his son's bed, watching the child, waiting until he would wake.

He could have summoned a book to read or he even could have left to do something else while the boy slept, but he knew that – maybe it would be the last time he could watch his son sleeping, maybe it would be the last time he could sit beside his son and simply watch him, because maybe the boy would die today, or maybe he would die tomorrow. He would not waste this time for trivial things when he could use it for time spent with his son, even if his son was sleeping, because maybe there wouldn't be any time left he could spend in his son's presence ever again in only a few hours or days, he didn't know.

This particular child that happened to be his son just cut it too short for his liking sometimes.

The bruise on his chest had faded and he was sure that it wouldn't stay like the others but that it would vanish and while the boy had been asleep he had watched the record Binns had done in his classroom. The history teacher had told him that he never called the records up, he was just too lazy for watching them all the time, but that he had the charm activated nevertheless, just in case – something he'd been glad for, he had to admit that. Well, as they soon had seen – fonr once Weasley was not to be blamed. Harry had come in together with the others, Draco talking to him, telling him that he would be in trouble if he didn't go back – what he actually was now – and Harry answering that he couldn't just miss classes, that he'd be in trouble if he did – a moment later the child had started swaying and had dropped, a fact that worried him to no end, the child dropping in the early morning hours already when he should be well rested.

"And one of those certain behaviours being your utter lack of concern for your own health." He continued his angry rant. "I will not stand for you putting your health in further jeopardy and ghost or not ghost, your life already is at stack and we cannot afford any more dangerous situations, so if you disobey me again I will have no other chance than to punish you." He then added, wanted to make sure Harry understood completely. "I have forbidden you to go to classes and you sneaked out of not only your room but our quarters, my office and my classroom to do just this! Such a thing will not happen again, is that clear?"

"Yes sir." Harry said as he cringed into a tight ball and averted his eyes, looking away from the professor, wondering what his father meant with – he'd had to punish him. "Sorry, sir." He added, just to be on the safe side. He doubted that it would make that big of a difference, it never had made a difference with his uncle after all, but – well, better safe than sorry. A moment later he could feel himself slipping into darkness when sleep claimed him again.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_It is time_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

239 Points - Slytherin

189 Points - Ravenclaw

175 Points - Gryffindor

148 Points - Hufflepuff


	61. it is time

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

April, 12th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"And one of those certain behaviours being your utter lack of concern for your own health." He continued his angry rant. "I will not stand for you putting your health in further jeopardy and ghost or not ghost, but if you disobey me again I will be forced to punish you." He then added, wanted to make sure Harry understood completely. "I have forbidden you to go to classes and you sneaked out of not only your room but our quarters, my office and my classroom to do just this! Such a thing will not happen again, is that clear?"_

_"Yes sir." Harry said as he cringed into a tight ball and averting his eyes, looking away from the professor, wondering what his father meant with – he'd had to punish him. "Sorry, sir." He added, just to be on the safe side. He doubted that it would make that big of a difference, it never had made a difference with his uncle after all, but – well, better safe than sorry. A moment later he could feel himself slipping into darkness when sleep claimed him again._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter sixty-one **

**It is time**

He had cancelled his sixth year's potions class today.

And he had cancelled his seventh year's potins class for tomorrow too.

He actually had cancelled his NEWT classes for the entire week – because surely he wouldn't be able to teach anytime that week and he wasn't even sure if he would be able teaching ever again. At the moment at least he didn't feel as if being able to teaching ever again, because what he felt was – it was so damn painful, and he felt so damn helpless while he only could sit there, watching the child laying in bed – something that made him angry at the entire situation.

Harry had barely woken since the day before and his breathing as well as his heartbeat had gotten weaker and weaker, slower, while his movements had become sluggish. He wouldn't eat anything anymore and the few sips of warm chocolate or soup he was barely able convincing the child to drink – it surely wasn't enough for anything.

The child was dying, it was clear.

The ghost was dying as well as the child's body was dying.

He had brought Harry back home yesterday afternoon and he had placed the boy in his body's room where he would have both boys close. He had been worried over his son's reaction if he noticed when he woke, but the child barely had woken to notice it and even now – half awake as he was, he doubted that he noticed his surroundings at all.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry could feel stern eyes on him, watching him intently and he took a deep breath, forcing his own eyes open, because he knew a gaze that felt as stern and as intense, as piercing as this one, it only could mean that Snape was watching him, that his father was watching him, because only _that_ man could pierce people – and ghosts for that matter – with his dark eyes.

Why was he so tired? Was it that now? His father had told him that he would die if he didn't go back into his body and he had told him that it would happen soon, but was it that now? Was it happening _that_ soon? He looked over into the face of the man that was watching him, his father, and he became scared.

His father was pale, paler than normal, and sitting in the armchair that stood beside the bed, looking as if he had been sitting in there the entire night. He looked tired, very tired, and he didn't look the least bit convinced that this thing with those potions would work at all, the always so dour and composed man looked worried, very, very worried, nearly as if he were frightened and it scared Harry to see the always so cold and collected man like this. Because if this particular man was worried like this – then it made clear to him just _how_ dangerous the situation was. But – at the same time it made clear how much the Potions Master seemed to value him. Him!

There was someone who cared for him! For him, Harry!

And it was Snape of all people!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

When Severus felt Harry's eyes on him, he turned to his son, looking at the boy's tired and pale face inquiringly and he was puzzled for a moment when Harry fearfully looked away from him.

But then – well, the boy knew that this was the end. Of course he knew. Not only could he most likely fee it, but also was the child no idiot and surely he could see it while watching him, Snape, and if he looked the way he felt, then surely he must look very worried.

Taking a deep breath he knew – he couldn't delay the inevitable any longer, it was now or never, before the child would be too weak to handle all those potions and what they might do in his body – or ghostlike body.

"You are still not ready to go back into your body I take it?" He softly asked while leaning towards the bed and running his fingers over the pale forehead to brush away some strands of the black hair before his palm came to rest on the child's cheek.

The boy that had turned back to him, again looked away, guiltily, and the Potions Master took another deep breath before he gently increased the pressur his hand had on the child's cheek, turning the pale face back into his direction.

"I do take this as a no, and no, it is not a criticism." He softly said. "But you do realize that we have to take the next step and use those potions now?"

"Know." The boy softly said, nearly whispered. "Sorry though."

"There is no need for that, child." He just as softly answered, keeping his palm on the child's cheek while he gently ran his thumb over his son's brow. "I do understand your reasoning and I do understand that you simply have reached your limits. I just do not like it that I have to jeopardize your life. But there is no other chance now. It is now or never, so shall we get it over with before it is too late?" He softly asked, earning a weak nod of the boy's head and without another word he reached over at the nightstand where he had placed the wooden grate that contained the required potions, knowing that it was now or never as – maybe in a few hours the child would be too weak for any transformation or for dealing with those potions, that maybe in a few more hours, the child would be dead even.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"I need you to drink this potion." He then said, taking one of the vials and reaching it at the boy ghost's form. "It will create a temporary copy of you as we do need some form of a ghost to get your body back to live the way it should."

"A temporary copy?" The boy asked, frowning but taking the potion – as it seemed the boy was ready to take all risks even if he didn't know what exactly was to do.

"I will give your temporary copy another potion so that it will become permanent as soon as it is brought together with your body, but you can't create a permanent copy to begin with, this is impossible and would go against all laws of magic." He said and the boy took the potion, his fingers trembling, and then he downed it, shuddering at the taste.

A moment later he could watch the ghost form wavering, again the molecules changing and dancing as if they wanted to regroup but weren't able to form a halfway solid body again and the boy gasped, scared, reaching his hand over to him – to him! Snape! To search comfort from him!

Closing his eyes for a moment he took the hand that held onto him with a force that was nearly startling while the molecules every now and then threatened to vanish completely before they regrouped and formed new ones that seemed to battle with the original molecules, a battle neither of them seemed to win as they wavered and wavered, threatening to destroy each other in their silent war – surely nothing that could be considered as a pleasant experience if the boy's pale and scared face was any indication.

"It will go well." He whispered whenever the child tightened his grip on his hand, used even both of his hand at one point to hold onto him in a deathlike grip, as if the grip he had on his, Snape's, real form could anchor his ghost form here in this world and keep it from vanishing completely and forever.

"Is this what could happen?" The boy asked, his voice soft and scared. "That I vanish? Just … just like that?"

"Yes." He softly answered and he would like doing nothing else than taking the child into his arms, but he wasn't able to. While the boy was able to hold onto him with his hands, right now the only parts of his body that seemed to stay halfway solid, maybe because of his deathlike grip even, the remainder of his form wavered and wavered on, untouchable. But yes, it was one of the risks. There were more, but the boy didn't need to know that, not now, he was scared enough for the moment.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Another few minutes went by, minutes during which the boy didn't say anything anymore but was clinging to him as if his life depended on it, minutes during which he over and over again tried to size the ghostlike child until he finally was able to and then pulled the boy into his arms to hold him, to give him this kind of safety, even if he knew that it wasn't a real safety. If the boy's ghost would vanish now – he wouldn't be able to keep a hold on it, to do anything against it, it would be gone forever.

He ignored all the moments when his arms went through the form again, unable to hold molecules that changed yet again, but then the battle of the molecules ceased and finally stopped, those that were copied leaving the ghostly form to regroup anew just beside the child's pale and trembling form, laying there still and motionless.

His son in his arms took a shuddering breath and he could see that the child nearly cried for a moment before he sagged against him.

"Is it even alive?" The boy asked, daring a glance at the copy of his ghost.

"Yes, it is." He softly answered. "He is. He just does not have your knowledge of how to move, of how to speak or of how to do anything by himself. He will need your body, he wouldn't be able to survive without it. I need you to stay awake, Harry. I will have to give your physical form a potion and you cannot fall asleep during the entire procedure. Do you understand? You have to stay awake, never mind how tired you are."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_How to make twins_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

240 Points - Slytherin

189 Points - Ravenclaw

177 Points - Gryffindor

149 Points - Hufflepuff


	62. how to make twins

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

April, 14th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_He ignored all the moments when his arms went through the form again, unable to hold molecules that changed yet again, but then the battle of the molecules ceased and finally stopped, those that were copied leaving the ghostly form to regroup anew just beside the child's pale and trembling form, laying there still and motionless._

_His son in his arms took a shuddering breath and he could see that the child nearly cried for a moment before he sagged against him._

_"Is it even alive?" The boy asked, daring a glance at the copy of his ghost._

_"Yes, it is." He softly answered. "He is. He just does not have your knowledge of how to move, of how to speak or of how to do anything by himself. He will need your body, he wouldn't be able to survive without it. I need you to stay awake, Harry. I will have to give your physical form a potion and you cannot fall asleep during the entire procedure. Do you understand? You have to stay awake, never mind how tired you are."_

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter sixty-two **

**How to make twins**

The boy nodded at him sitting up in the bed and with narrowed eyes the Potions Master took the next vial from the wooden grate, went over to the other bed.

"This one will allow your body, your physical form to accept the copy of your ghost form instead of your _actual_ ghost that would belong to it." He explained to the boy, knowing that not only had the child to know what would happen with him and with his body, but also knowing that he less likely would fall asleep if his mind was occupied.

"That would belong to it?" Harry, the ghost asked, watching him pouring the potion down his body's throat and holding his head back, massaging his throat so that he could swallow the liquid – a strange experience, watching Snape handling his body, really. "So we are fooling my body, aren't we?"

"Yes." He said, quietly, knowing that this was the next risk they were taking.

"And what if … what if it won't accept the copy?" The boy then asked, as if reading his thoughts and he frowned while placing the empty glass vial back into the wooden grate. "Then it won't work?"

"No, then it won't work." He quietly admitted, taking the next vial. "Do not fall asleep, Harry."

"Won't." The boy said. "'M too nervous now."

"Good." The Potions Master couldn't help saying while approaching the copy of the ghost form and kneeling in front of the now sitting form, locking his dark eyes with the ghostlike green ones, watching them for a moment and easily noticing how empty they were, startling empty, after he was used to the expressive green eyes of the ghost child, the same green eyes which showed fear, happiness, sadness, curiosity, or anger, pain sometimes even.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"At the moment you are a temporary ghost, child." He slowly said to the form that looked at him questioningly, clearly not understanding what was going on and he didn't know if the ghost understood what he wanted from him even. "And we need you to go into this body, that is yours actually – and for that we need you to drink this potion, that will make you permanent the moment you go into your body, because your body surely would die the moment you vanished into it if you were not permanent before an actual fusion could be formed."

Well, maybe he had explained it a bit complicated, but well, he only could hope that the boy would understand. They didn't have too much time for a lot of explanations. But well, if he had expected an answer then he had expected wrong, because there was none, the copy of the boy's ghost only looking at him questioningly and not understanding.

A moment later however the ghost-copy was reaching out his hand to take the potion.

"Surely not." He huffed at the child. "I won't risk you dropping this vial because your fingers are not used to holding anything. Just open your mouth and I will pour the potion in. Do you understand?"

But well, again there wasn't an answer.

"Alright." He murmured, ignoring Harry's "he's stupid" and holding the vial at the copy's lips. "Open up." He ordered and then dipped the vial the moment the boy obeyed. "Good, and now swallow." He ordered, watching the boy trying to do this, the throat convulsing with untrained muscles trying to transport the liquid down, while nearly choking. "Swallow all of it! That's it. That was well done." He then added, ignoring the boy ghost's, Harry's, gasp at him, praising the copy of a ghost of a child for something like – swallowing liquid.

"Do not forget Harry, that your copy has just learned how to swallow." He answered the one form that was conscious, aware and able to form coherent thoughts and words. The boy sighed but then nodded, clearly not liking but understanding it.

"On to the next potion." He murmured, more to himself than to one of the three children he had sitting – or laying in different stages of consciousness in this room at the present time. Merlin! What a mess!

"I need you to go over to your body now." He said, addressing the copy again while holding another vial in his hand.

And for a few long moments nothing happened, as if the copy didn't know what to do, but then he slowly floated – not walked like Harry the ghost would do – but floated and he only could guess that, as this copy never had learned how to walk in the first place, he did the only thing ghosts normally did, he floated.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The form hovered for a moment over the boy's body before looking over at both of them, first at Harry the ghost and then at him, Severus.

"I know that this is strange to you and I know that you – are scared." He softly said to the hovering form. "But I need you to take over your body or it will die."

The form looked at Harry the ghost again, as if it knew that they were fooling his body, as if it knew that it originally was the ghost's place he would have to take.

"'M sorry." The boy whispered, clearly knowing what his copy was thinking and he placed his hand onto the child's shoulder.

"He's 'n pain." The copy whispered with a voice that was hollow and barely audible, but clearly accusingly.

"Yes, he most likely is." Severus admitted to this form, knowing that lies would get him nowhere. It had to be done one way or another. "And yet I ask you to do this. I need you to take possession of your body so that I can give the next potion to both of you, the potion that would bind you to your body."

"It'd be his." The copied form said, pointing at the ghost form that was sitting on the bed beside him, Severus, looking quite miserable with guilt.

"Yes, it would be his." He again admitted, his hand still resting on his son's shoulder. "But he cannot go back in there. He has had enough on his shoulders already and he simply cannot go back, he has reached his limits. You will have to do this for him or you all will die. The body's life is already dangling on a string, as is the ghost form's life – and without them, you won't be able to survive either."

For another few minutes the copy of Harry's ghost hovered over his body before he cast another look at him, Snape.

"You'll be here?" It then asked. "You'll be helping?"

"I will." He answered, seriously and with a heavy sigh the copy floated down, lowering itself until it came in touch with the bodily form. It shivered and gasped when it touched Harry's body and Snape knew that he felt the remaining pain the physical Harry clearly still felt, but then it took a deep breath and a moment later it was gone, had gone into the body and quickly the Potions Master went over, poured the potion that would allow the boy's body and the ghost's copy to grow together and to form a symbiosis down the child's throat.

Only one potion left.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Dad?" The boy asked, the soft voice scared and as small as that of a little child and he nearly held his breath at the word, looking over at the ghost form of his son, the boy sitting on his bed and looking scared for all he could tell – and quickly he went over to the child, knowing that if this boy used a word like _'dad'_, then it was serious, then he had reached the end of his rope.

"What is it, child?" He asked, his eyes searching the green ones of his son.

"What if … what if it won't work?" The boy asked. "You … you'll be mad then and …"

"I won't be mad." He quietly said. "I am not mad. I am worried, but I am not mad."

"It's my fault, though." The boy then said, apparently needing something, _anything_, he could blame himself with. "That this copy now will be in pain, it's my fault, I should be the one back in there. I've made everything wrong and I've caused everyone pain and …"

"You have done nothing wrong, Harry." He quickly reassured, scowling at the idiot child. "And it is not your fault. Do place the blame where it belongs, namely at the Dursleys instead of innocent people like yourself. You have done nothing wrong and like I informed your copy – you have had enough on your shoulders already and you simply have reached your limits. Not to mention that your physical form is in not too much pain anymore. Most of the injuries we have healed and for any remaining pain your body is under the influence of pain relievers. And it will get better with time too. But for now – there is only one potion to go now, the one that will keep you, as a ghost, alive. I won't be able transforming you into an actual living child, but with the potion I can keep you alive. I only have to know if this really is what you wish, Harry."

"Do." The boy murmured, pleaded even. "Never had a fam'ly an' … please? Just please?"

"Of course." He said, handing the vial over to the boy ghost.

His son took the vial, but then, and after another moment of looking up at him in hesitation – the small ghost form turned on the bed so that he was sitting with his back towards him and then he leaned back, giving him, Severus, no other chance than quickly holding him or the child would have fallen off the bed.

And he did, holding the form while the child eyed the vial and then emptied it in one go and with a soft "so be it then".

Half a minute later the small form in his arms slumped down, frightened green eyes closing and then the body of the child he was holding went limp and completely still, causing him to hold his breath while he lifted trembling fingers to a pale and thin neck to feel for a pulse.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_When hope awakes – _

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

243 Points - Slytherin

192 Points - Ravenclaw

179 Points - Gryffindor

150 Points - Hufflepuff


	63. when hope awakes

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

April, 16th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"Do." The boy murmured, pleaded even. "Never had a fam'ly an' … please? Just please?"_

_"Of course." He said, handing the vial over to the boy ghost._

_His son took the vial, but then, and after another moment of looking up at him in hesitation – the small ghost form turned on the bed so that he was sitting with his back towards him and then he leaned back, giving him, Severus, no other chance than quickly holding him or the child would have fallen off the bed._

_And he did, holding the form while the child eyed the vial and then emptied it in one go and with a soft "so be it then"._

_Half a minute later the small form in his arms slumped down, frightened green eyes closing and then the body of the child he was holding went limp and completely still, causing him to hold his breath while he lifted trembling fingers to a pale and thin neck to feel for a pulse._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter sixty-three **

**When hope awakes – **

Half a minute later the small form in his arms slumped down, frightened green eyes closing and then the ghostlike body of the child he was holding went limp and completely still, causing him to hold his breath while he lifted trembling fingers to a pale and thin neck to feel for a pulse, taking a deep and nearly sobbing breath himself when he found one that was steady, steadier and stronger then it had been during the past few days even.

Gathering the small form into his arms he went over to the bed of the boy's body and laid him there while he for a moment was only able to watch the small chest rising and falling regularly and calmly before he extended his hand to search for a pulse again, again taking a deep breath to calm his overstrained nerves when he found one that seemed to be steady and stronger than it had been for weeks and then he summoned a vial with a pain reliever, knowing that finally the boy's body could heal completely.

Of course they had healed the boy's body, but as he was in a constant battle between life and death, they hadn't been able to heal him completely, hadn't been able to take all the horrors away, the pain, the fear, they only had been able to heal the small body to some degrees, not his mind and not all that was there to heal. But now – now he would survive and he would be an independent person, like his ghost.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

In later years to come the Potions Master wasn't able to tell how he had survived this particular night, sitting in a comfortable armchair beside the bed both boy's lay in, the one that was a ghost still and the one that was a physical child, both children called Harry and both children being the same age, even looking the same.

He had gotten twins.

He had leaned over to them at every slight movement one of them had done, holding his breath and reaching over to touch them, to lay a calming hand on a shoulder or a forehead or to search for a pulse, and he'd barely had a moment during which his own heartbeat was not racing like mad. They had done it and so far – both children had survived! Harry the body was resting and recovering and Harry the ghost was sleeping and snuggling against his physical form.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

However – it was the boy's ghost form that woke first and honestly – he didn't wonder about _that_, really, the boy blinking sleep away for a few moments and then sitting up – before looking over at him and then paling.

"How do you feel, Harry?" He asked, leaning over and placing his hand at the child's forehead, his eyes narrowed and ignoring the slight flinch the ghost form gave away – still.

"'M fine." The boy murmured, eyeing him warily and he huffed.

"I do know your kind of – _'being fine'_, Mr. Snape, so would you enlighten me as to _how exactly_ you are feeling?" He then growled, trying to sound annoyed to hide his nervousness.

"Fine." The boy repeated, looking as though he didn't know what to do, what he wanted from him. "It worked, didn't it?" The child then asked, looking at him with large green eyes.

"You wouldn't be here right now and annoyingly claiming to – _'feel fine'_ if it had not worked." He huffed again. "You do look fine to me but come here, I would like to have a closer look at you and I do know that a diagnostic charm won't work on you the way it is expected to."

The boy cast a quick and scared look at his physical form before he did as he was told and slowly scooted over on his knees.

"You're not angry at me?" Came the soft question and he lifted his eyebrow.

"No, I am not angry at you." He then said, his voice gentler and his eyes becoming warmer, unable to keep up his – unaffected mask and taking a hold on the boy's knees he pulled him closer, turning him until he was kneeling in front of him the way he wanted him to and then he reached out and placed his hand at the boy's forehead before he cast a quick charm. "I already have told you so last night. I am not angry at you. You still have 71 f, I take it that this is acceptable for your current form. Hold still!" He said when the child wiggled upon him running his fingers along the child's chest, stomach and sides. "You seem alright. Do you feel any pain?"

"I disappointed you though." The boy said while shaking his head.

"No, you did not." He quietly replied. "As I actually expected this outcome or I would not have brewed those potions to begin with – I only was afraid for you. I was afraid that you might have been hurt in the process or that I might have been forced to hurt you one way or another. No one knew what might have happened and – Merlin! _Anything_ could have happened. I could have hurt you. Worse than that, I feared you might die."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"You … you actually feared for me?" The boy echoed, green eyes going wide with shock while they filled with unshed tears and he wondered why the boy was so confused over this little fact. Had he not told the child more than once that he cared and that he feared the risks of using that potion to keep him alive? Had he not over and over again – sighing he knew that, yes, he had shown the boy and he had told him, but _he_ also had seen all the horrors this child had been through at the hands of adults, and most likely the child would never believe him, no matter how much he reassured him, he would have to live with that.

"Of course, brat." He growled darkly while turning the boy's head and having a closer look at the eyes and near-translucent skin. "I do not reassure you over and over again that I indeed _do_ care just to listen to my own voice like your blasted blood drinking and emotional fool of a godfather that is a mixture of Slytherin-pride, Gryffindor stupidity and Hufflepuff-emotions."

"I heard that!" Lucius' voice shouted from the other side of the door, causing Harry to look up startled and he groaned in frustration.

"Good!" He called back. "And now stop eavesdropping as this is a private conversation."

"You could call me in, Severus." Lucius called. "Then I'd be included into the privacy of the conversation. I'm the boy's godfather after all."

"You only will lavish him and tell him foolish nonsense and heart-wrenching stories." He growled at the door. "You will stay where you are until I am finished with him!"

They could hear Lucius snorting and Severus glowered at the door before simply casting a silencing spell over the room, knowing fully well that Lucius Malfoy wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon.

"Harry, have you thought about what would happen to everyone who cares about you if you died?" He then asked, giving his attention back to the boy on the bed. "To Granger, the Weasleys – and I do _not_ speak of Ronald Weasley, to Longbottom, Draco, Theodore and to me?"

"I just wanted to stop hurting anymore." The boy whispered, lowering his head and looking more ashamed than ever.

"I know, Harry." He said, pulling the child's head close against his chest and running his fingers through the black hair on the back of the boy's head. "I know, and that is alright. There is nothing wrong with that, child. You had any right to want that."

"I just couldn't take the pain any more." The boy said, whispered in a choked sob. "And then – no one ever wanted me for who I was, and then _you_ wanted me, you of all people and you wanted _me_, and you actually _wanted_ me and even if I was a ghost and I feared that you wouldn't if I weren't a ghost anymore and then I wouldn't … and now I don't even know who I am anymore and … how can anyone want me now if I don't even know who …?"

Snape didn't reply to that, he just kept his arms around Harry and watched him for a long time while the child cried in his arms.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Tears started to fall rapidly from Harry's eyes and before Severus knew it, he found his arms suddenly full of a sobbing twelve year-old boy ghost, like so often lately and taking a deep breath he held Harry, comforting him as best as he could while at the same time relaxing for the first time in several long days. Harry was alive and, no matter what happened now, safe and that was all that mattered at that moment.

And honestly, he wasn't really surprised at the child's uncontrollable sobs, the boy had been through enough and like he'd told the copy of the boy ghost – he simply had reached his limits.

Harry sobbed into his guardian's chest for a long time, comforted by the strong arms that were tightly wrapped around his slender body, unable to hold back the tears for any longer as everything seemed to break forth suddenly.

The Dursleys always had got mad at him when he'd cried and they'd always locked him in a cupboard but Snape didn't do that. Snape did exactly what a parent was supposed to do when their child cried, he comforted him. He held him. At least he thought that this was what was normal.

Harry swallowed before pulling away from his guardian with a whispered "sorry" before he wiped his face on the sleeve of his pyjama top, something that made Severus Snape grimace before holding out a handkerchief which the child took, continuing to wipe his face.

"There is no need for you to apologize for crying, Harry." He finally said, softly, while he placed his chin atop the boy's black hair. "Everyone needs to cry sometimes and it definitely is all right to cry sometimes."

"Even you?" The boy dared to ask while resting his head on his guardian's chest, the boy holding his breath after he had asked this particular question.

"Even I." He answered after a moment. "I have done so last night while watching over the both of you."

Harry took a deep content sigh and for a long moment he stayed in the comfort of his guardian's arms, most likely the only thing he was doing, enjoying being held.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_- desperation goes to bed_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

245 Points - Slytherin

195 Points - Ravenclaw

184 Points - Gryffindor

152 Points - Hufflepuff


	64. desperation goes to bed

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

April, 18th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"There is no need for you to apologize for crying, Harry." He finally said, softly, while he placed his chin atop the boy's black hair. "Everyone needs to cry sometimes and it definitely is all right to cry sometimes."_

_"Even you?" The boy dared to ask while resting his head on his guardian's chest, the boy holding his breath after he had asked this particular question._

_"Even I." He answered after a moment. "I have done so last night while watching over the both of you."_

_Harry took a deep content sigh and for a long moment he stayed in the comfort of his guardian's arms, most likely the only thing he was doing, enjoying being held. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter sixty-four **

– **desperation goes to bed**

Not so easy had been the waking of the Harry that was a physical form.

He didn't know if it had been because of his, Snape's presence, of Poppy's presence, or of Lucius' presence, he didn't know if it maybe was because of his ghost form being there or if it maybe was just – or if he had felt the presence of a ghost within him that didn't belong there.

**Flashback**

_The panicked look in the green eyes of the boy was a telltale sign enough for him to know that – something didn't go as well with the boy wakening as it had with Harry the ghost waking earlier and he already summoned a calming draught while Poppy went closer to cast a diagnostic and Lucius to lay a calming hand onto the boy's shoulder, the blond aristocrat – and the emotional fool as he was – eager to calm his twin-godson, or godson-twin. Well, Lucius Malfoy always had been a soppy person who loved dramatic scenes._

_A moment later however the boy had pulled his shoulder away from the man violently, a move he could have predicted to the blond, and had knocked the vial out of his, Snape's hand in the process. _

_Poppy at the same time didn't wait long for any instructions but got one of the calming draughts she had brought earlier when having a closer look on Harry the ghost and she uncorked the vial without a fuss, but well – she wasn't any more successful than had been any of the male persons present in the room. Because she was just about to hand the potion over to Harry with a stern "none of this now, Mr. Snape" when the window in the child's room started rattling and then shattered, together with the lamp, a glass of water that stood on the near table and the potions vial Poppy was holding in her hand, glass pieces swirling in slow motion through the room for a split second before they sped up and then and landed on the floor and any other surface, gently like snow._

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

_None of them knew what exactly had happened, except of Harry having done accidental magic just a moment ago, but they didn't even know which Harry it had been, only guessing that it had been the physical child as Harry the ghost didn't fear them anymore. They had their gazes fixed on the boy that still lay on his side in near shock when a large, bluish translucent bubble formed around him, slightly wavering just like the ghost form of this very child, and the Potions Master immediately knew – this bubble was meant to be a protective shield. At the same time he watched the child's lips moving in a mantra of a soundless 'no _… _please no _…_' while small and thin arms were hugging around a just as thin stomach in a deathlike grip, the frail and delicate form rocking back and forth, just like the child's ghost form so often did lately, only that he did this in a laying position, unable to sit up yet and he cast a quick glance at the sofa where the ghost child was kneeling. _

_Harry the ghost, who – just like his real form in this bubble – was rocking back and forth, this form while kneeling on the sofa but with just as clear terror written on his pale face, looked over at him, scared to death and silently asking him for help, and Snape knew that he didn't mean help for his ghost form but help for his physical form that clearly was scared out of his pants._

_A moment later the door to the child's room burst open with a loud bang and everyone looked up, Snape already with a scowl on his face, about to curse the person who dared entering his quarters without being invited, already expecting Dumbledore in the doorway, but there was no one there, not a person, not an animal and there wasn't even wind that could have opened the door – nor a ghost._

_But he knew what was the right thing to do right now, knew why the doors had opened as if by themselves, because it must have been Harry, either of the two Harrys who both were scared to death at the moment as it seemed. _

_"I suggest you leave, Lucius and Poppy." He softly said, trying to keep his voice even and calm. "I will handle the situation. Close the door please when you leave, and quietly so, please."_

_There only was a short "but -" from Lucius and a "surely –" from Poppy – but then both of them turned and left the child's room when he lifted his eyebrow at them both, closing the door behind them._

_A moment later, even before the door handle was back in its horizontal position, the locks clicked and he knew – he had been correct, the child wanted him and Harry inside, his family, but not the other two who only would hover over him and poking him. _

_The last sets of potions vials, most likely a calming draught, a pain reliever and a sleeping solution which Poppy had been summoning just a moment before were hovering midair for a moment longer and then shattering on the floor._

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

_Severus Snape was momentarily rooted to the spot, calmly so, while he assessed the damage in the room. _

_All the glass items had shattered the moment Poppy had come close with the potions and various potions were now pooling on the wooden floor, mixing, and he only was glad that it were potions that were meant to being combined or the damage would have been even worse. The door was closed and locked but the windows were broken just as well as any other glass items, allowing in fresh air and for a moment he wondered why the castle had made the windows of his sons' rooms as realistic as they seemed to be – they were in the dungeons after all and surely no fresh air could come in through those windows. _

_The covers on both Harrys' beddings were jumbled, the fabrics that once had been clean bedspreads and pillows were shredded while feathers were softly falling to the floor like snow still and he slowly lifted his hand, waving it at the window to repair the broken glass, at the floor to vanish the mess and at the beddings to get them orderly again. A moment later the mess in the room was gone and it looked as comfortable and as inviting as it had before._

_Harry himself was still laying on his side, slowly rocking back and forth on his bed – as did the ghost form on the sofa close by while kneeling, the physical form murmuring a faint "no, no, no, no, __**no **__…__" in the absolute quiet of the room, except for the last 'no' which he actually shouted, while Harry the ghost was murmuring a soft "please __…" over and over again and for a moment he actually felt panic rising in his chest – which child first to tend to? Which child first to calm? Which child first to _…

_"Hush now, it is alright, Harry." Severus tried to comfort both of the children, the one that was physical and the one that was a ghost, although he had absolutely no idea what was going on in their heads, nor whom he should pay attention to first, hoping that both would listen. "It will all work out."_

_"Won't. Never will." Harry whispered, the physical form, his voice shaky and plaintive and he sounded as if he was five instead of twelve, while at the same time the light around his body seemed to flicker when he raised his head timidly. "'M dead an' …"_

_Dead? Severus thought as he edged closer towards his son's form, careful not to make any sudden movements. How did he know? Had he seen his ghost? Had he felt like dying? How did he know how close to death he actually had been? How did he know that he had actually already had his foot stepping into the doorway?  
><em>

_"You are not dead, you silly child." He said and immediately wished he could take back his words as the boy flinched back from him with a small gasp, the bubble around his form becoming stronger than it had been before. "You are not dead." He then repeated, calmer. "Will you listen to me? Will you try and trust me?"_

_But there was no answer, except the boy continuing to rocking back and forth on the bed while Harry the ghost continued doing the same on the sofa. _

_"Harry." Severus said as he raised his hand to place it on the boy's shoulder. "You are very much alive, child, and it will work out, it will, I will make sure of this." He softly said, allowing his voice to drop deeper than it normally did. "I will make sure of this. I will never lie to you, Harry, and I will make sure that it will work out. Already I have adopted you and already I have administered the required potions to you so that both – you and your ghost form would survive. You are alive, child, and anything else we will work out."_

_The boy ghost paled, looking up at him and he became more transparent, he even flickered._

**End flashback**

His heart had stopped when his son that was the ghost had become more transparent than he ever had been before and he had been so sure that he would lose the child now. He even had taken a step towards the ghost child and he actually had lifted his hand, his wish to grab the child becoming overpowering for a moment, but then he had stopped himself, knowing that not only would he be unable to actually grab the child if the boy didn't wish him to, but also knowing that – he would have to leave this decision to his son, because he, the mortal, he had no right to keep an immortal ghost that wished to go in life, because he, Snape, he would go, leaving behind a child for all eternity, alone. And so it was the child's decision alone.

So of course he'd been afraid and worried like never ever before, he'd been scared even.

Well no, he'd been just as afraid and worried – scared – the entire night.

Merlin, it had been the worst night of his life actually.

He'd been so very much afraid of losing one or both of the boys and suddenly he had realized just how much both of them had wormed their ways into his – well, not existent heart, even the one form that so far hadn't done anything as he'd been unconscious in some ways, laying in bed only, asleep, unable to worm anywhere.

But changing the boy's pyjamas, washing him, sitting with him, speaking to him, running his hand through his black mop of hair or over the pale face, feeding him with anything he could feed him with, mainly nutrient potions, watching him and worrying over him, well – it had –

_He_ had gotten used to it, nothing else and surely nothing like affection or care had happened. He only had gotten used to those two idiot children living in his quarters and taking up his space and his time, being in the way and annoying him with stupid questions. So of course he now had worried all night long, it wasn't a pleasant experience after all, loosing something one was used to!

That at least had been what he had told himself, because what he had truly felt, it had been so much more and so very deeper, it had been startling, scary even, because he suddenly had realized that he couldn't live without those two, that they were his children, both of them, suddenly. From one day to the other he had become a father and from one day to the other he had gotten twins even.

And then, in the morning, when the physical Harry had woken, the ghost-form of Harry, he had wavered as if he were to vanish, as if he weren't sure that he were welcomed still, now that the physical body had back his own ghost, now that his physical self might survive and he hadn't been sure how welcomed him pulling the boy close would have been.

Of course the child's form had wavered before, during the night, of course he had worried all night long, but not like this, at least in this particular moment he though that it hadn't been like this, but the same he had thought during the night.

**Flashback**

_He knew that he probably should go to bed and that he at least should try to sleep – but at the same time, he couldn't. How could he sleep now when his sons' future was so very unsure? How could he sleep now while he didn't know if maybe it would be the last night with his children? How could he sleep now while …_

_How could any parent survive eighteen years of watching their children getting ill or getting in any dangerous situations, having accidents, coming home with one injury or another? How could they survive worrying over them over and over and over again? How did they manage staying sane throughout all those years? _

_Because watching those two forms that were his sons right now, he wasn't sure if he would survive until the night was over even. _

_A small whimper from the physical Harry got him out of his thoughts and reaching his hand over to the child he hoped that the move would be welcomed. _

_Running his fingers through the child's black hair he noticed how very soft it was. _

_But he had noticed this earlier, hadn't he? _

_He had bathed the boy's body after he'd taken him from the Dursleys, where the boy had been forced to live in filth and stench, had washed his hair and after that he had noticed that it was – clean actually. Not the smelling and unhygienic body of a typical preteen that was too lazy to take regular showers, to regularly wash his hair or brush his teeth, feet stinking because they changed their socks only once a week, one of the reasons as to why he was so very strict when it came to his Slytherins and hygienic. He would not allow them to lack in this area._

_But Harry was not like this, neither his ghost form nor his physical form. _

_He couldn't say much about the boy's physical form yet, but his ghost for so far had expressed an excessive cleanliness even that went up to taking a shower at least three times a day and he only could guess that the boy tried to make up for all those years at the Dursleys where he'd been allowed a shower once a week only or sometimes even once a month only, where he'd been forced to pee into a bucket when he'd been locked in his cupboarad for days and weeks, where he hadn't had enough clothes to change them regularly, where he hadn't even had any clean clothes to begin with.  
><em>

_Well, they both had wet their bed a few times throughout the past few weeks, since they were here, but first – Harry's physical form surely wasn't able to prevent anything like this, wasn't even aware of his body functions and second – it was only understandable, considering what the child, or children, had been through and he would have wondered if there were no problems arising at all, and third – it surely was not a problem as he immediately bathed the children and changed their pyjamas and the beddings. _

_The child's whimpers had become less and had stopped even while he had run his fingers through his son's hair and over the pale face, and so he thought that it was a gesture welcomed, if only unconsciously by the child, as long as he didn't know who stood behind the move. He knew well however, that the boy most likely would fight him tooth and nail the moment he woke and he had to admit – he dreaded that moment._

_He was Snape after all, Severus Snape, the boy's teacher who had been as unfair as humanly possible to him._

_Casting a glance at the small ghost form he hoped that it would be as easy as had been the past few times he had woken, but he knew that most likely it wouldn't, because back then the child hadn't been really awake, half conscious only._

_Taking a deep breath he leaned back over to run his fingers through the child's hair again to calm him further before he leaned over to do the same with the ghost-form that he had laid beside the physical form last night. It's been easier that way, he had thought, to watch over them and he only could hope that they wouldn't mind them laying in a bed together. They were at an age after all at which they could mind, at which they were aware of their bodies. _

**End flashback**

Well, Harry's ghost-form hadn't minded at all, neither that he lay in his physical form's bed nor that he, Snape, was there, either.

He didn't know if his physical form had minded really being in a bed together with his ghost-form or if he had minded his, Snape's presence only, most likely the second.

But well, the child had survived the night, and well, the child had been aware that morning.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_To anyone who cares_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

247 Points - Slytherin

200 Points - Ravenclaw

187 Points - Gryffindor

152 Points - Hufflepuff


	65. interlude two – to anyone who cares

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

April, 20th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Casting a glance at the small ghost form he hoped that it would be as easy as had been the past few times he had woken, but he knew that most likely it wouldn't, because back then the child hadn't been really awake, half conscious only._

_Taking a deep breath he leaned back over to run his fingers through the child's hair again to calm him further before he leaned over to do the same with the ghost-form that he had laid beside the physical form last night. It's been easier that way, he had thought, to watch over them and he only could hope that they wouldn't mind them laying in a bed together. They were at an age after all at which they could mind, at which they were aware of their bodies. _

_**End flashback**_

_Well, Harry's ghost-form hadn't minded at all, neither that he lay in his physical form's bed nor that he, Snape, was there, either._

_He didn't know if his physical form had minded really being in a bed together with his ghost-form or if he had minded his, Snape's presence only, most likely the second._

_But well, the child had survived the night, and well, the child had been aware that morning._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter sixty-five **

**Interlude chapter two – To anyone who cares**

**Flashback**

_"Harry." Severus said as he raised his hand to place it on the boy's shoulder. "You are very much alive, child, and it will work out, it will, I will make sure of this." He softly said, allowing his voice to drop deeper than it normally did. "I will make sure of this. I will never lie to you, Harry, and I will make sure that it will work out. Already I have adopted you and already I have administered the required potions to you so that both – you and your ghost form would survive. You are alive, child, and anything else we will work out."_

_The boy ghost paled, looking up at him and he became more transparent, he even flickered._

_"Don' believe you, sir." Harry the physical form softly said while he raised his head slightly until only his green eyes shone behind his black fringes and Severus wondered which part of the statement he was referring to. "You hate me." The boy then added._

_Ah, that it was._

_Beside him the ghost form of Harry wavered again and he waved the ghost boy over to them, not demanding him to come closer but inviting him, only wanting to show him that – he was welcomed, he wanted him and he would care for him, because the boy was looking at him unsurely and he knew – the ghost child was about to vanish, not sure if he wanted to keep him now, now that he had a physical child that was his son and that needed his attention and his care._

_"I do not, Harry." He said sincerely, simply pulling the ghost form into his arms when he shyly started to scoot over on his knees, slowly, unsurely if he really was wanted, he just grabbed the boy's knees and pulled him closer until he could grab his shoulders and pull him on his lap hoping fervently that Harry would understand, that both Harries would understand. "I do not hate you, Harry, and I will not abandon **you** either, Harry." He then added towards the child he held in his lap, realizing that he would need a solution to the children's names, and soon as he couldn't call both boys by the same name._

_"You do not?" The boy ghost asked in a voice that sounded like a little child that required constant reassurance while the other Harry stared at him wide-eyed before he looked the same at his ghost form sitting on his lap and it was clear – the boy wanted that too, even if he tried to hide that wish. _

_The bodily form of his son still looked at them, his eyes never leaving them, him and his ghost form he held in his lap, but he clearly didn't believe him, clearly didn't trust him and it really wasn't a surprise. He knew – would he now make a move to pull this boy close too, it would be the wrong thing to do, then he would have a child at his hands that fought him up to the hilt, he would have to take a different approach._

_"I promise you this." Severus intoned, his gaze steadily at Harry's green eyes, while he waved this boy over as well. Maybe he couldn't pull him close, but he could invite him.  
><em>

**End flashback**

Of course he had known that the boy wouldn't be able moving, coming over by himself, but he was sitting close after all and the moment the child would have been about to move, he easily could have pulled him close too. But there had not been any movement.

Neither had there been a question about why he couldn't move his legs, a fact that had him worried a bit, because it not only showed that Harry had known about his back being hurt already before he had taken him from the Dursleys – what made him wonder how long it had been the child had been laying there with his hurt back – but it also showed that he simply accepted, whatever fate threw his way, he simply accepted it.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Well, that had been this late morning, and now they had noon and still there was no improvement, on the contrary.

He was more than just a bit unsettled by the boy actually defying him when he had tried to give him some potions – and later on some rusk and milk with honey for breakfast and one question the child had asked didn't leave his mind: "Why would you even care?"

But now it was time for lunch and again – the child wasn't ready to easily take _anything_ from him, never mind the boy's ghost form taking the bowl with the light soup and again he could see – the boy _wanted_ being part of this, _wanted_ eating with them together, but he didn't know how, or rather what could happen if he did, was scared, while at the same time he was playing the defiant brat, anything to not appear weak.

"You need to eat something, Harry." He said, as calm as possible after another "why would you even care" and he kept his face as impassive as possible too, knowing that this was what would help the child to feel somewhat normal at least.

Well, of course he would not allow his anger to take the upper hand of him, the child had _really_ been surprised that he of all people had cared to provide him with food and considering the little fact that the Dursleys had denied him even basic food, it was no surprise that the child thought this way. This was not the child he'd had for several weeks now and that had gotten used to their relationship after all but a child that was entirely new to the situation and that didn't know what to do, how to act and how to _re_-act. And though he was a strict man, he could overlook a pre-teen tantrum as he knew the reasons behind. Namely that no one ever had shown the child _any_ care, nor mercy or kindness and neither understanding and so he wasn't used to it now, was scared of it even. The child had far too much on his shoulders and he needed some space – and an outlet. He would have to look for something constructive for that, and soon, something that would benefit both the children.

But at the moment he was willing to ignore the child's attitude, knowing that venting was most likely healthy and glancing over at the Gryffindor student he noticed that his eyes seemed to be growing glossy – the child was retreating into himself.

He had seen this behavior before with some of his students, unable to handle situations that became too strenuous, too much for them to bear, they withdrew into themselves, an unconscious act of self preservation.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Sitting onto the edge of the bed, forcing himself to not look back at the startled ghost child, he reached over to touch the bony shoulder of the physical Harry. It was time to bring the child back to the present.

"Harry." He softly said, but the boy showed no sign of hearing him. "It is time to return, Harry." He said, more demandingly now and a moment later drained and guarded green eyes met his own black ones. "It is time to eat something, Harry." He then added, again reaching the bowl with the soup at the child. "I want you to eat and you won't be punished for taking the food. You are not at the Dursleys any- …"

"I don't believe you!" The boy immediately said – again – and though the words were defiant, it was all too obvious that his attitude was a mask only, his voice quivering with repressed tears while the green eyes watched the bowl longingly. Clearly the child was hungry and now he tried to play all brave and strong man so that he, Snape, wouldn't dare hurting him, would leave him alone.

Yes, better attacking someone first so this one left, because it was better being alone than being attacked.

Knowing that right now he would get nowhere he just placed the bowl into the boy's lap and then got to his feet and sat into the armchair he had occupied all night long.

The child had sat up earlier, having to accept his help as his arms had been too weak to hold his weight without the help of his legs and this too had been a fight that nearly had ended in a panic attack, but now the boy was sitting there, the bowl of soup placed above the blanket in his lap and he, Snape, he tried to find a solution, tried to find something that would show the twelve year old boy – he cared, but he would allow him some space, for now at least.

He nearly smirked to himself when he called for his house elf that appeared a moment later with a soft "pop", startling the boy.

"Would you please bring the book I have started reading to Harry, Zilly?" He asked and with a soft "of course, Master Snape, sir" the house elf vanished, leaving behind a gawking Harry Snape who apparently hadn't seen a house elf ever before, causing the ghost child to softly chuckle at his facial expression what caused him to scowl at his – brother, for the lack of a better word and he, Snape, he sighed. Barely a day old and already they started with typical sibling behaviour.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry watched the Professor warily between half lidded eyes.

He didn't want to know what Snape was doing, he absolutely didn't! Because Snape only was here to make everything worse for him!

Wasn't it enough that he still couldn't move his legs? Wasn't it enough that he still couldn't move his entire lower body and that he felt too week to actually hold his upper body upright without the support of his legs? And he knew what this meant! He knew that it meant that he'd never ever again would be able moving his lower parts of his body, because if Madam Pomfrey had healed everything else – what she clearly had, much to his embarrassment about her knowing about his home life with the Dursleys – then she surely would have healed that too if she would have been able to. And the fact that she didn't made clear that she _hadn't_ been able to.

And well, wasn't _this_ enough already?

And wasn't it enough that he felt ill actually because of his hunger? And wasn't it enough that he was so very, very tired and exhausted?

No – no, it apparently wasn't enough, because it had to be Snape who had to be here. Snape of all people!

Why couldn't McGonagall be here? Or Dumbledore?

Alright, maybe not Dumbledore, he wasn't so fond of the old wizard anymore since the end of last term and during his holidays with his relatives he'd had enough time to think too. But McGonagall could be here during the holidays instead of Snape, but no – it had to be Snape who stayed during the holidays! Snape of all people!

And this other Harry, his other self, his ghost self, or whatever it was.

He was scary, no wonder he seemed to like Snape.

On the other hand – there was a familiarity between them that he wanted too and it hurt, it actually hurt in his chest watching them while at the same time he couldn't take his eyes off them.

Snape touched the other boy, and not in a bad way. Neither did he beat him nor did he touch him at inappropriate places, but he touched his shoulder, or his forehead, or his arm, and in a way any father would with his son. Wasn't that what Snape had told him? That he had adopted him? But it was Snape still, after all, Snape!

For years Snape had ignored him, had disowned him, had denied that he was his father – and he was sure that Snape had known, never mind what, surely a father would know about his children?

His mother had written in her letter that Snape wouldn't know, and that he would have to tell him, but surely that couldn't be right, because surely Snape would know if he had a child, a son, but he had hated him so very much that he rather had disowned him instead of acknowledging him as his son. Maybe he had feared that he wished to be his hair, but he wouldn't want anything, he wouldn't want any inheritance. He always only had wanted that what this other Harry, his ghost, seemed to have, his father's care, nothing else.

But every now and then Snape _seemed_ to invite him, Harry, seemed to ask him over too, and he wanted, he so badly wanted that too, wanted being held like this ghost form was held, but he knew that surely he couldn't have that, not he, never he! He was bad and he was ugly, not even uncle Vernon wanted to touch him anymore. Surely nothing he was unhappy about, but nevertheless, it only showed that surely Snape wouldn't touch him either.

But well, he didn't want it anyway and he couldn't understand how this other Harry would want that. It was Snape after all and he neither wanted to know what Snape was doing nor did he want anything from Snape or the professor being friendly. It simply was a survival instinct that had him following his teacher with his eyes but he wasn't really interested in whatever the man was doing.

Not one little bit!

He watched the man sitting down at the armchair and opening the book the strange creature had brought a moment ago and he sighed with relief. At least Snape allowed him some space and some peace while reading, he'd be able to think and he'd be able to dream himself, to go back into his own world where he had built a safe place.

Before he however could concentrate on the small place that was his very own residence in his dream world, surrounded by large trees that weaved a web of protection that no one could penetrate, with ladders, fences and plank bridges that led from tree to tree, forming a small town high up in the trees, with chairs, sofas and tables scattered around and above the trees, the Slytherin opened the dark brown leather bound book and – "to anyone who cares – or the story of the valley of wolves" Snape read aloud and for a moment Harry couldn't help gawping at the man.

Snape!

_Snape_ reading a book to him!

Snape of all people, the darkest and coldest and meanest person at all Hogwarts, the one teacher that had made his potions lessons a living hell twice a week and he of all people was reading a book to him! Imagine! Snape reading a book to any student! It was impossible and surely he had hurt his head or something because surely he was hallucinating.

But – "the valley of wolves surely was not a valley that was built for wolves nor were only wolves living there but humen mostly." Snape read on, apparently not caring about him, Harry, gawking at him like a fish in a glass and he watched the ghost leaning against the man's side, Snape actually – and here he nearly gave away a chocked noise – running his arm around the ghost's shoulder! "No, there just were a few wolves too, living in the midst of the valley, not at the borders but in the very midst of the valley and therefore the place was called – the valley of wolves. It was located in the midst of a desert but there was a large river running through the barren land and the valley was built into one of the many stream bends. It wasn't large either, only a few houses, maybe twelve or thirteen houses and one larger building that could be called a castle or something similar. The strange thing about this valley however was not the wolves, and believe me, there was a strange thing about that village, but it was the children, because in this village there were _only_ children. Not a single adult could be found there, and even the village itself – it had been built by those children even, with magic, but built by them.

It was called wish-magic and it provided the wisher with what he needed and wished for in his darkest hour and so it was clear that something must have happened for those children to live there alone, without their parents and families, something must have happened for this kind of magic having enfold itself."

Closing his eyes he started to relax.

He just wouldn't listen to what Snape read, he simply wouldn't allow himself to be drawn into the story Snape was reading. He wasn't as weak as Snape clearly thought him to be and he wasn't a fool either. Snape couldn't mess around with him. He might have been able to with his ghost, but not with him! He just wouldn't listen and then everything was alright.

"But let us get back to the village and the children themselves first." Snape went on reading, apparently unaware of his inattention. "They all were around the same age, boys and girls, and there were exactly twenty-eight of them. Some of them were friends and some of them were enemies, in fact, they had come to the valley in two groups actually, and as some of them were weak and some of them were strong, just like it always was in real life, those who were strong, they soon had overtaken the lead of both groups.

There was no visible line going through the village, nor were they actually separated, even their houses were mixed instead of separated in two groups! No, it rather was an invisible line, one that lived in their hearts and in their minds only, but knowing that they had to work together if they wanted to survive in the wilderness of the desert and amongst the wolves no less they tried to at least work not against each other.

Well, on the one group there was Dominic Houston, a fourteen year old boy with white hair and a pale skin, nearly like a doll, fine limbs and blue eyes that were as deep as an ocean, but as delicate as he seemed, he had the strongest will of them and his magic was powerful. It was that reason as to why he soon was the leader of that group and he even had been the one who had the built houses being mixed instead of separated into two groups."

Taking a deep breath he relaxed further while despite of all his trying he couldn't help listening to the story.

Well, Snape didn't have to know that he was listening, did he?

He just would listen a bit, until he knew who the leader of the other group was and what they were doing there in this desert, and what the wolves had to do with them and where the adults were, why they were alone and what had happened, because anything was better than thinking of his own situation and listening to Snape's deep and velvet voice actually helped him to finally relax.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_You have done nothing wrong, Harry  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

257 Points - Slytherin

203 Points - Ravenclaw

189 Points - Gryffindor

153 Points - Hufflepuff


	66. you have done nothing wrong, Harry

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

April, 22nd 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"There was no visible line going through the village, nor were they actually separated, even their houses were mixed instead of separated in two groups! No, it rather was an invisible line, one that lived in their hearts and in their minds only, but knowing that they had to work together if they wanted to survive in the wilderness of the desert and amongst the wolves no less they tried to at least work not against each other._

_Well, on the one group there was Dominic Houston, a fourteen year old boy with white hair and a pale skin, nearly like a doll, fine limbs and blue eyes that were as deep as an ocean, but as delicate as he seemed, he had the strongest will of them and his magic was powerful. It was that reason as to why he soon was the leader of that group."_

_Taking a deep breath he relaxed further while despite of all his trying he couldn't help listening to the story. _

_Well, Snape didn't have to know that he was listening, did he? He just would listen a bit, until he knew who the leader of the other group was and what they were doing there in this desert, and what the wolves had to do with them and where the adults were, why they were alone and what had happened, because anything was better than thinking of his own situation and listening to Snape's deep and velvet voice actually helped him to finally relax. _

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter sixty-six **

**You have done nothing wrong, Harry**

Watching the boy out of the corner of his eyes while he was reading, he was satisfied. This child, relaxing into the pillows he had stuffed behind the boy's back earlier, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, was reacting very much similar to his ghost, something he had hoped for, and for a moment he actually felt his ever present calmness arising again. Maybe it wouldn't be as difficult as he had feared, handling this Harry, because he already knew how to handle Harry the ghost.

He even nearly huffed when he noticed how hard the boy tried to appear _not_ listening to him while his head was turned to one side a bit, a sign of concentration, his eyes either closed or elsewhere but at him while he seemed to very much straining his ears to hear.

Foolish child!

As if he wouldn't notice that he listened to the story. What did the boy think? He should know him well enough by now to know that he barely missed anything, he'd been his teacher for an entire year after all, and surely not a pleasant teacher to mess around with.

But well, most likely exactly there lay the problem and maybe it was better leaving the child in his believes for now, thinking that he didn't notice him listening, because this Harry didn't know him as did the Boy Ghost.

And so he simply read on, the book held in his left hand while his right arm was draped over the ghost child's shoulders, the boy leaning against his side, his head resting at his, Snape's shoulder and he only could hope that the need and the want the other child clearly expressed, the green eyes watching them longingly, would overcome his distrust and his hate, that he either would give away any sign of wanting to be held too or that he would try to scoot over.

Harry, the ghost form at the same time, was unaware of his physical form watching them so longingly.

He simply sat there on the armchair his father sat in, in the tiny, small space between the armrest and the man's thighs, but he didn't have any trouble with the small space, he fit in there perfectly and he was leaning against his father's side, his eyes closed and simply enjoying being held, like always, listening to the man's deep and velvet voice and even if he knew the beginning of the story already, knew that there had been an accident, that the two classes had been on a trip and their teachers had died, and that they now were stranded in the desert, he nevertheless listened, because soon they would reach the part he didn't know, his dad had started reading him the book just the evening before after all.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Watching both Harries while he read he could understand the ghost form being so unaware of his physical form watching them so longingly, because he knew – Harry had lacked any attention, any affection, any touch and any other means of comfort or support, had missed even basic survival needs, and now he just wasn't able to concentrate on _any_ of his surroundings when it was given and he only could hope that one day the same shy smile, as small as it might be, would spread over the other child's face too like it did right now with the ghost form that was so unaware.

Merlin, he really needed to re-name one of the two children.

But not now.

Right now, he knew that he had to get both children comfortable with each other – and with him, by the way.

Well, he surely wouldn't hope for a really laughing child, even Harry that was a ghost he had heard him laughing only once, when Draco had told them about all the questions Weasley, Thomas and Finnigan had been asked for three days – not to mention the howler Molly had sent during lunchtime when nearly all the student body was present.

**Flashback**

_"You won't believe it, but Weasley got asked every few minutes of how long he had wet his own bed during the night, and know what he answered? He said he'd been eleven still, at Hogwarts even!" Draco said upon entering, not even waiting for their answer and he shook his head. That was a typical behaviour of his godson and he really would have to have a serious talk with the boy. But for now, well, he'd known that his godson would inform them, but he hadn't thought that it would be so soon already, but well – anything that would cheer up Harry, because the child really was feeling dejected after the potions lesson two days ago. _

_"Know." Was all Harry said however and both, Draco and he, Severus, gaped at the green eyed child. _

_"You knew, Potter?" Draco asked, incredulously. "Sorry, Harry, I meant. But if you knew, then why haven't you got back at him for peeing in your bed? Because that definitely is disgusting!"_

_The idiot boy only shrugged his shoulders, but he too, he barely could believe it. _

_It was one thing if an eleven year old child – or a twelve year old child even – wet his bed once in a while because of emotional stress, because of a trauma he'd been living through – and dying, or being abused, surely could be counted as a trauma – but it was an entire different story for a child that age to wet his bed regularly and maybe he should inform Molly about that, because clearly she should take the boy to a healer as there had to be a reason for that. _

_And Harry had known about it and had never teased Weasley because of it? Had most likely covered his friend's accidents so that the others in their dormitory might not learn of it? Just the more unbelievable and horrendous was the fact that Weasley had now urinated in Harry's bed, his friend that had covered him apparently in more than one area of life. _

_"You know what the Weasley twins asked?" Draco went on, sitting down onto the sofa and taking one of the cookies he always had there since Harry was living here in his quarters. _

_Well, maybe Harry would take a page out from Draco's book and start taking a cookie himself without him, Severus, having to tell him to take one, because so far the child never took anything without being told to._

_"One of them asked 'if you think no one is looking, what is the one thing you would do?' and Weasley said he'd pick his nose! And the other twin asked if he washed his feet between his toes and Weasley went as red as a tomato and said no. He added that no one washed their feet between the toes but no one listened anymore because everyone was laughing already."_

_Well, Harry didn't laugh, but he was smiling, shaking his head, and he started relaxing into the familiarity of the sofa he always was sitting at, accepting Draco in their presence without a fuss even if he could watch him getting quieter. _

_"I do hope that the Slytherins have behaved so far." He growled playfully. _

_He knew that they wouldn't, not this time, but for once he didn't really mind and for once he wouldn't punish them for making fun of someone else. Weasley not only deserved it, but he also had brought it over himself by foolishly drinking the entire vial of the truth serum, the idiot child. And Thomas and Finnigan had just had to follow his lead! Not to mention that his Slytherins in acting up now were about to teach Harry a lesson on what it meant being a Slytherin, namely that they stood up for each other, never mind if this other suddenly was the boy who lived – or the boy that forgot to die in this case right now. _

_Well, theoretically he should teach Harry a lesson too, on what it meant being a Slytherin, by punishing them for their making fun of Weasley and co because that was part of being a Slytherin too – whatever they did, they either were praised for their accomplishments or they were punished for their misdeeds, and that surely did not mean points being given or taken. He had his own system with them, but as harsh and as demanding as he was, he was fair with them, the reason as to why they trusted him the way they did, like they did no one else, sometimes not even their own parents._

_"And then Edgecombe, Bradley Edgecombe, the Ravenclaw prefect, he asked what the first thing was Thomas did when he woke in the morning and he answered that he jerked off!"_

_"Any less primitive questions?" He asked with a suffering sigh and his typically raised eyebrow, just before he narrowed his eyes at Harry, wondering why the boy would look away at that particular question. Maybe he should have been present in the great hall when Thomas had been asked this, and maybe he should have pressed on with a few questions of himself and he saved his information in the back of his mind for later inspection. _

_"Well, one of the twins asked Weasley what his favourite toy was when he'd been a child." Draco then said, chuckling. "A question that did seem rather harmless, I first thought, but then Weasley answered with an 'a muggle doll that could cry and laugh when being fed.' Imagine!"_

**End flashback**

Well, at this Harry had laughed, and it had been the first and only time he actually had heard the child laughing, really laughing – a sound that would have made him happy if it hadn't been caused by such stupidity like Weasley and Co had shown and caused.

"Andrew Charleston was the other boy that had overtaken the lead, from the second group." He read on, hoping that one day both boys would trust him and laugh and act like any normal twelve year old child would. "He was the pure opposite from Dominic Houston. He had black hair, darker skin and dark brown eyes. He wasn't fragile either but rather sturdy a bit and he had been the one who had suggested underground network of roads, just in case."

It had been good to see the child laughing, definitive.

There were so many horrible things in his son's life – and the worst wasn't even the boy's death, because as much as he liked killing the old man, but in one thing Dumbledore was right – death only was the next step to the next adventure. No, he rather thought of the pain and the fear the child had been living through, at the desperation and the helplessness, the hopelessness, the emotional pain as well as physical pain and again he couldn't get the memory of the boy's owl dying out of his mind, nor could he keep himself from looking at the now faint scar on the child's forehead that was a mess, healed during the past few weeks but clearly visible still, where Dursley had tried to cut the original scar, the curse scar, off the child's forehead and he didn't even dare wondering if the child had been awake at that point or not.

Of course this child trusted him even less than the ghost child did, of course this child …

**Flashback**

_He still didn't really know how to describe the horror he felt since the last memory he had seen before his son had given way to exhaustion finally and had fallen asleep in his arms, and he really didn't have to wonder why the small ghost form had barely woken since, why the child – why both children – were rocking back and forth right now, one child while kneeling on the sofa and one child while laying on his side, he didn't have to wonder because such horrors, he didn't know how he could be able battling such horrors to make it any better for the child, for any of the children._

_Not even he himself had lived through such horrors, neither at the hand of his father nor in later years while spying at the Dark Lord, and he had seen many things as a spy. _

_But this one last memory, the boy's screams, screams the child had held back for weeks and weeks of pain, enduring beatings and broken bones, enduring his skin cut open and enduring his skin being burnt, enduring hunger and exhaustion and pain – and all of it with stoical silence, teeth gritted until he feared they might be breaking off, his hands curled into fists so tight he wasn't sure if he could relax them ever again and his entire body rigid with strained muscles – what was there anyway that could be called muscles – while the child even held his breath in his lungs as long as possible to keep from screaming – but he never would forget the screams he finally had given away in the end, those screams when Dursley had put the owl in the oven and had turned it on while he had Harry tied to the kitchen table, beating the hell out of the child, while his son was forced to watch his beloved owl slowly dying a cruel death and he had known that Harry hadn't screamed because of the belt, because of the cane hitting his bare back over and over again, splitting open his back with each stroke more and more, the boy most likely not even noticing this kind of pain while the emotional pain over being forced to helplessly watch his owl dying the most cruel and slow death imaginable, being forced to helplessly listening to the horrible screeches the dying animal was giving away, was overriding the physical pain that only would come later. _

_And now he didn't know which child to calm first, which child to comfort first, which child … _

_How could he even comfort them over the horrors both children had seen and felt for so many years?_

_How could he even do any good for one of them and how could he even handle twins that both needed as much attention, comfort, support and anything else he could give as much as the other one? _

_Whatever he gave one child, the other one would be jealous because both of them needed everything so very much and how could he even manage that? _

_It was one horror added to another and how could he undo any of it and with two children no less? _

_Closing his eyes he forced the upcoming panic attack he felt arising down. He had two children here, two small lives, and both needed him sane and strong, and so he couldn't afford a panic attack, really!_

_"Hush now, it is alright, Harry." He tried to comfort both of the children, the one that was physical and the one that was a ghost, although he had absolutely no idea whom he should pay attention to first, hoping that both would listen. "It will all work out."_

**End flashback**

Well, he had his ever calm demeanor back and he was more than glad for that. It was an unpleasant experience for him, losing his self control, because his self control was the one thing he could trust in and that had kept him alive in more than one situation in the past.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He nearly jumped at the stop of Snape's voice reading and he scowled at himself. He hadn't noticed that he had listened so deeply. He only had intended on listening a bit and he felt angry at himself for falling for the man's trap while at the same time he wondered what the man wanted of him to begin with.

Of course he knew that Snape was his father, he had called for him long enough and often enough when he'd been younger, wondering why his dad had abandoned him there at the Dursleys, wondering what he'd done wrong so that his dad didn't love him anymore, but then he had come to Hogwarts and he had met the man again, his father, and it wasn't just the man not loving him anymore – no, he hated him even.

And he didn't even know why, he didn't know what he'd done.

But well, he'd given up on trying. He had tried during the first few weeks last year, had so hard tried to please the man and to gain back his attention and his care and his love – but Snape wasn't able for that, Snape was Snape and Snape always would remain Snape – and Snape was scary, mean, dark, cold and simply a bastard of a teacher that loved to torment his students, not like uncle Vernon, but in some ways.

So why was Snape now trying to – to do _what_ even?

"You have done nothing wrong, Harry." Snape's soft voice got him out of his thoughts and he looked over at the man, watching the calm face, the calm black eyes and for a moment he wondered why there was no hate in them. The next thing he noticed was how tired Snape looked, pale and tired as if he had sat there for days and nights, as if – he didn't know.

'_As if he cared.' _

Scowling he looked away from the man.

Snape didn't care. Snape never would care, not about him anyway!

"I do care, Harry." Snape's voice made him looking up at the man again and again he noticed how tired Snape looked, but his black and calm eyes were serious. "I do care and you have done nothing wrong. Do place the blame where it belongs to, namely at the Dursleys and at Dumbledore, at the Dark Lord and at me even, but not at your person because you have done nothing wrong."

"You haven't either." His own voice, the ghost's voice, this of the other Harry that was so scary too, said.

"In a way, I have, Harry." Snape said, looking down at this ghost he was holding still and the jealous he felt was becoming nearly unbearable. He too wanted that! He didn't understand why, but he wanted being held too! Why did he want being held by Snape? By Snape of all people? He didn't understand it! "I shouldn't have trusted Dumbledore from the beginning, I never should have spied on the Dark Lord for Dumbledore, and then your mother would never have taken you and left, because I would have been there."

"You would have been away never mind what job you've had." The ghost softly said and looking up at the man again – yes, as the father of the family he would have had to leave the house and go to work and so he'd been away anyway. So maybe his mother had been right? And it had been the situation and no one's fault in particular? But then why had Snape never come to visit him?

Other parents visited their children too if they lived separated from them. So why had Snape never visited him? And if he had visited him, then surely he would have seen how he lived at the Dursleys and then he surely would have taken him away.

But would he really have taken him away? Maybe he had known and had therefore never visited him because then he would have to take him?

But he had taken him away in the end anyway, so maybe he would have done so from the beginning on if he had visited him?

But well, this was a mute question, because …

"I would have taken you from the Dursleys if I had known." Snape's voice got him out of his thoughts and out of his doubts too and looking up again, he again could see that the man's black eyes spoke of no lies. And again he wanted being there, where his ghost was, in the man's arms. But why wanted he being held by Snape? It was SNAPE! "Even before I had back any memories of you being my son, I would have taken you away from there the moment I had learned of any abuse, never mind what! And if I had known that you were my son, then I would have taken you after your mother's death either. I never would have allowed you at the Dursleys if I had known, I never would have allowed Petunia to take you."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_Even in the darkest of nights_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

259 Points - Slytherin

208 Points - Ravenclaw

194 Points - Gryffindor

154 Points - Hufflepuff


	67. even in the darkest of nights

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

April, 24th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_Other parents visited their children too if they lived separated from them. So why had Snape never visited him? And if he had visited him, then surely he would have seen how he lived at the Dursleys and then he surely would have taken him away. _

_But would he really have taken him away? Maybe he had known and had therefore never visited him because then he would have to take him?_

_But he had taken him away in the end anyway, so maybe he would have done so from the beginning on if he had visited him? _

_But well, this was a mute question, because …_

_"I would have taken you from the Dursleys if I had known." Snape's voice got him out of his thoughts and out of his doubts too and looking up again, he again could see that the man's black eyes spoke of no lies. And again he wanted being there, where his ghost was, in the man's arms. But why wanted he being held by Snape? It was SNAPE! "Even before I had back any memories of you being my son, I would have taken you away from there the moment I had learned of any abuse, never mind what! And if I had known that you were my son, then I would have taken you after your mother's death either. I never would have allowed you at the Dursleys if I had known, I never would have allowed Petunia to take you."_

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter 67 **

**Even in the darkest of nights**

The child, the physical child, had started rocking again, sideways this time and he only could guess that this movement now, while he was unable using his legs for stabilization, was easier to the child than rocking back and forth like he had done earlier when he had been lying at his side and he could actually see the emotional pain radiating off the child, his need to being held too, his jealousy at watching his ghost being held and he waited for another moment, his eyes narrowed at the physical form, waiting for any signs of the child edging closer or giving away another move than his rocking movements, or leaning over to him so that he could pick him up – but there was none.

"If it is your wish Harry, then you may watch the memories I have of all this." He said, knowing that he had to give the child something, anything he could grasp at. "I know that you won't trust me easily and I do not ask you to, but I do ask you to give this a chance. I know that you are scared, that you fear being hurt again, but I will not hurt you, I will not harm you and I will not abandon you, you have my word on this, Harry."

He had to keep himself from narrowing his eyes at the child when Harry leaned forwards a bit, trembling hands resting on the blanket in front of him, somewhere on his legs to keep his balance, because he knew – the child would see, and because he knew that the child would mistake it for something calculating in a mean way instead of him, Snape, just being watchful.

But he knew, the child was close to giving way to his needs, the longing of being held, to needs any child had, to needs that had been denied of him for so long, for many years, for nearly all his life, needs that had to be overpowering by now and he knew that the child wouldn't be able to withstand for long now.

"Why?" The boy asked, a serious question while serious green eyes watched him closely and he laid a calming hand at the ghost child's shoulder to prevent him from giving away a "stupid question", because it wouldn't be a question the ghost child he was now holding hadn't asked himself once, at the beginning, when he hadn't trusted him, Snape.

"Because I have seen how very wrong I have been and sadly it has been you who'd had to pay the price." He seriously answered. "I have been unfair to you without thinking, something that is unbecoming for a Slytherin, I have to admit, and the Slytherin head of house no less. However, I have dealt with your ghost form here for weeks now, Harry, and I'll be able dealing with you too. Already you have your own room here in our quarters, as has your ghost form and already I have re-claimed you as my son in front of the ministry, even if we will have to visit the ministry again so that you too can give your signature if you are amenable with this, but know that I will not abandon you again."

"How?" The child softly asked. "How can I know that you tell the truth? How can I trust you that you won't leave me someplace because I'll never be independent again with my legs I can't move? How can I go on as if nothing happened while this ghost is the very proof that I've died somehow? How … what …"

**Flashback**

_"No, Harry." He said, calmly, startling the boy with the use of his given name and even he could hear the anger in his own voice, anger at Lily's sister and her husband. "You never will go back to those bloody excuses for human beings ever again." He had seen the boy's body last night, his back and his chest, and except for the broken bones, the bruises and the open cuts and lacerations – he had seen all the scars, scars that overlain other scars, layers of scars that were years old._

_"But …" The boy started, looking helplessly up at him. "But what do I do now?"_

_"You trust an adult for once in your miserable life, Potter." He growled. He had watched the boy during yesterday evening and during last night, and he had watched him this morning so far, silently weighing up his options as to the next curse of action. Had watched his uneasy sleep, his restless movements during his sleep, had watched the child curling into a small ball or rocking himself to sleep sometimes even while softly humming to himself, barely audible, but he had heard it – and he had seen this type of behaviour before and he knew that maybe the sorting hat had been right in more than one regards._

_"Oh, but he should be." The bloody hat had said, causing him to whirl around and look at him in shock. "He should be yours, he is yours actually!"_

_Yes, the idiot child should be his. He should be one of his Slytherins. And yes, he actually was his. He was his son. He was his snake._

**End flashback**

"You seem to be under the misconception that you are still alone, child." He said, still calmly. "You are wrong here, child, because never mind what, I do want you. Your ghost form here, he has been asking the same question in the beginning, weeks ago, and he too, he had to learn that, even as a ghost, I do want him. You will have no other chance than trusting me – in the end, you will be quite fine, child. And now lean closer so that I can pick you up like your ghost brother here, because I would like holding you while you are awake for once instead of sleeping and unconscious." He then added in a growl.

"You promise?" The idiot boy asked and he had to keep himself from giving away a suffering sigh, causing the ghost child he still was holding to give away a soft chuckle.

"I do promise, you silly child." He growled. "I surely haven't gone through all the trouble with rare and most likely even forbidden potions that can be brewed during the full moon only just to give up on you later, you idiot child!"

"Good." Harry whispered while he actually leaned closer, carefully still, warily. "Good."

A moment later he simply reached out and pulled the child closer, into his arms too until he held both boys in his arms – another moment later Harry's real form collapsed into his arms, sobbing silently from the sheer exhaustion of worrying and Severus tightened his grip to hold him before he might tumble off his lap, the bed and to the floor.

Merlin, what was he to do with two children? With twins even? With two armful of sobbing messes?

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He didn't know how long he'd been laying in Snape's arms, crying.

_In SNAPE'S!_

He'd actually been laying in _Snape's_ arms, crying, and the man hadn't even said something, hadn't even pushed him away, hadn't even done nothing but holding him! He'd really held him!

He couldn't believe it still.

Snape of all people imaginable had held him while he'd been crying all over the man's robes.

But it had felt so good, it had felt like nothing he'd ever felt before, it had felt safe and it had felt warm and it had felt – he didn't know all the terms of how it had felt even and the man's "it is time for dinner, you are both too thin for my liking and I won't have you missing any meals" after he had calmed down, it had been most unwelcome. But well, if Snape suggested that they had dinner, then maybe it was a good thing and he knew that he should take what he got, he couldn't know when he'd get the next meal after all.

And so they'd had dinner.

It had been toasted white bread with chicken broth and a few vegetables, and Snape had said that he most likely wouldn't be able to stomach anything else. Well, he knew that Snape was right, it had been the same last year when he'd come to Hogwarts after all, and back then he'd made the mistake of indulging in all the food presented on the tables, and he had felt so very, very ill after that!

If only he'd know for sure that Snape wouldn't give him away one day!

If only he'd know how to go on now!

If only he'd know what would happen now!

If only he'd know …

"Even in the darkest of nights, I still know that the sun will rise again in the morning." The soft voice of the Potions Master got him out of his thoughts again and – and not for the first time – he had the impression that the man could read his thoughts. The most startling fact however was – and had him looking wide eyed at the man – Snape kneeling in front of the chair the man had sat him in earlier and placing both his palms on his cheeks and he couldn't help flinching back for a moment. "I know that the time will run in a twenty-four hour cycle and that the world will go on around me. Even in my worst moments, gravity still keeps me grounded, the ingredients to the wolfsbane potion still have to be added in the same order as much as the ingredients for the veritaserum potion. A bezoar always will be found in the stomach of a goat and if I add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood, then I always will get a powerful sleeping draught. I know that I can trust in those facts, Harry, child, and you – you can trust in the fact that, as cruel as I can be to people, I have never lied to them, nor to you. There has been only one single person I ever have lied to, and that has been the Dark Lord. It has been my job as a spy, lying to him, or I wouldn't have survived a week in his ranks. And with this knowledge, I tell you that I won't give you away one day, that you will go on in one way or another, that what will happen now is you eating dinner and that I will be at your side whenever you need me. I might be cruel to those I dislike, but those I chose to love, they will have my protection, my assistance and my comfort, my affection and my care. And do not hurt yourself." The man finally added, reaching out his hand and again he reared back, nearly toppling off the chair, but Snape only pulled the lip from between his teeth where he had been biting it.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It was a strange thing, watching Snape handling his – the other Harry, whatever or whoever this other Harry was.

At one point he had thought that – maybe he was his brother, but actually, he wasn't his brother, because Lily Snape had only given birth to one child, to the boy that Snape had picked up from his bed and then carried over to the dining table where he had sat him atop one of the chairs with a blanket around his shoulders and over his knees, much like he had done with him for some time, and still did sometimes when he was cold and Snape found out.

But if this other Harry had the right to call Lily Snape his mother because she had born him, then what was he? It wasn't the first time that he wondered about that. And if he was correct with his line of thoughts, then Severus Snape too would be this other Harry's father, not his, so maybe he would abandon him one day? Because he only was a ghost?

But on the other hand, Snape had promised him that he wouldn't and Snape really had never lied to him. And Snape also had told him that he wanted him, had gone through all the trouble to not only brew the potions that would create the copy and get it into his body so that his body would survive, but he also had brewed the potion that would keep him here and alive, and that surely meant that Snape really, really, really wanted him?

Because otherwise he just could have let him dying. It wouldn't even been his fault, because no one had known about the potion that could keep him here and alive and so no one would have had blamed him for not keeping a ghost alive. But he hadn't, he had brewed that potion and he had given him that potion and that surely meant that …

"I thought that we were over this doubt, Harry." Snape's voice drawled and he could hear that the man was not pleased. How did he always do this? Knowing his thoughts? "And no, I am not angry with you, child, I just would appreciate it if you didn't revert back to where we started two months ago."

"Know." He murmured, averting his eyes. "Sorry though."

Well, he'd seen the boy's reaction to his father's approach, earlier, and seeing him flinching back the way he'd done, it really had looked strange, had looked – wrong somehow. Had he looked the same? Did he still look the same? He had seen how hard it had been for Snape to not comment on it, to hold his hand still for a moment before going on with his movement and he wondered – was it the same for the man with him whenever he was scared and unaware of his own actions?

It had felt strange, it had felt scary even, and he hadn't been able looking any of the two in the eyes at that moment.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Severus Snape at the same time felt himself falling into one déjà vu after another one while handling the physical Harry that was not used to him now and he had a hard time, watching the boy flinching back every now and then – whenever he approached him actually – and provided that the child was awake.

He had reached out to pick up the boy from the bed and to carry him from his room to the dining area of their quarters – to have the boy rearing back violently from him and pressing his back against the wall, the small body trembling and green eyes wide with fear until he had realized that it was only him, Snape.

Later he had approached the child after it had been so very clear that he was unsure of his own future, most likely of him abandoning the boy one day as he clearly saw himself as a burden now and he had knelt before the child, like he so often was doing with the ghost child lately – only to have this child flinching back, the little muscles that were there tightening in expectation of a blow and he'd had to force himself to keep his hand still for a few seconds until the boy recognized not only his surroundings but him, Snape, too, before continuing with his movement.

And then he had extended his hand to pull the child's lower lip from between his teeth before blood would flow, and this time the child had reared back violently enough so that he nearly had fallen off the other side of the chair.

He would have to make sure that the child got a wheelchair that neither would topple over nor of which he could fall from, and soon. He hardly could carry the boy to the great hall for meals or to classes after all or his reputation would be ruined, shredded.

Well, and neither did he really like the reactions the ghost child showed, clearly feeling guilty of whatever he thought he could feel guilty at, he, Snape, he didn't have a clue of what that might be.

"Time for bed." He said after watching both children yawning and he got off his own chair and over to the chair of the newest addition to their small family, picking up the child and ignoring yet another flinch. "It was a strenuous day for both of you and after last night neither of you is in top form. I suggest you go and take a bath, Harry, and prepare for bed while I get your brother ready for bed. I suggest that you then come to his room to sleep there for tonight. I want the both of you close until I can be sure that no unwanted side effects of the potions you have been given appears."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Well, getting Harry ready for bed had been no real problem – except for the child averting his eyes whenever there occurred a situation where he would have used his legs normally but now couldn't, but for now Severus Snape chose to ignore and not comment on it. It was important for the child to sleep soon and peacefully and without worrying over a discussion they now might hold. It would be a serious discussion to begin with and he chose holding it at a time when they could relax and concentrate onto the subject without having to make haste.

And so he had changed the boy into a new pair of pyjamas, had helped him brushing his teeth and had brought him to bed the moment the ghost child had come into the room, standing in the doorway like a lost puppy and he had waved this child over too.

Soon both of the children had been laying in the same bed, like the night before, and he had been reading the story of the city of wolves to the children again – until they both had fallen asleep a few minutes later.

For the rest of the evening and night, Severus had settled himself into the chair beside the children's bed and kept vigil, sometimes with the boy ghost in his lap for a few minutes after a nightmare, the ghostly form weighing still none to nothing, and sometimes with the physical child in his lap after a nightmare, this child not weighing too much more, and the only thought in his head had been that _he, Severus Snape,_ he had been the only one allowed to touch the ghost child and _he, Severus Snape,_ he had been the only one the physical form of Harry had allowed to stay. Not to mention the resulting conversation that had gone better than he had expected and so – maybe their relationship was going somewhere after all.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The next morning had been easier than he had feared again.

He had thought that, after a night the child, both children, had been able to sleep over what had happened, the first problems would arise, questions he weren't able to answer, one of them being unhappy with the solution or with each other, the physical Harry maybe being jealous of the ghost form that was so very clingy, the ghost child being jealous maybe of the physical child because he feared where his place in their small family was.

But no such problem had happened.

They had woken and they had started whispering at one point or another, waking him, and then he had picked up Harry one and had taken him to the bathroom while Harry two had turned sleepily, being awake but not ready to leave his warm bed after he had covered him with a second blanket last night again.

After that he had taken Harry one to the dining table for breakfast and – like the evening before – he'd had to fight for the boy to take some of the food and to eat, like he'd had to with the ghost child in the beginning. Harry two at least was able to take food during the meals finally, even if he wasn't when it came to any snacks between.

"Harry?" He asked, stepping into the kitchen and two sets of green eyes looked over at him while –

"Yes, sir?" Two boys asked at the same time, one ghost form that was sitting at the kitchen table and one physical form that was sitting opposite the boy ghost and he groaned.

"Alright." He sighed. "First, I have talked with Poppy and both of you are free to return to classes by next week on Monday if you are up to, but not one day sooner." Well, that caused both boys to smile shyly and he frowned at how alike those two children were, the ghost form a bit less shy as he was living with him since nearly two months now already, but the physical form as shy as the ghost form had been in the beginning, both boys still so unsure and frightened sometimes even. "And second – and what I have thought of since a few days now – we need to find a different name for one of you two."

Well – both boys immediately placed their spoons away at the annoyed tone in his voice, both boys afraid of having done something wrong and both boys apparently unable to continue eating their breakfast if they felt uncomfortable – and he took a deep breath, not sure if sometimes they even winded up each other.

He would have to find a solution to that.

"Continue eating." He ordered while sitting down between the two and taking the cup of coffee Zilly had placed there. "I did not mean it as a criticism as it isn't your fault even. Both your names are Harry after all but I cannot call you both by the same name – yet, I do not wish to take your name from one of you and so we have to discuss this."

"Don' wanna have it." Harry the ghost murmured and "Harry have it." Harry the physical form murmured.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It had taken him some time to convince the two that one of them kept the name Harry as – it had been Lily's decision to name their child that, and even if he wouldn't mind, he didn't wish to take the name Lily had chosen away from both of them.

"I suggest that one of you keep your name." He said while addressing the ghost form of his son. "But we will change the other name to … Jamie." He said while addressing the physical form that scowled at him at the suggestion, while he himself didn't really understand why in Merlin's name he had suggested that particular name, a nickname for James. But well – Harry and Jamie it was then.

"Then I'd like being Jamie." The ghost form said immediately. Looking up at him shyly at having asked for something he would wish before looking over at Harry unsurely and clearly apologetically.

"And I Harry in this case." The other child said, just as softly and unsurely, and he frowned – but well, if the children were amenable with it this way – then be it.

"I'll stay in Slytherin, sir?" Harry the ghost form asked, _Jamie_ asked, and he inclined his head.

"Of course you will." He said, seriously. "You have been sorted into Slytherin and so you are welcomed in the house of Slytherin, not to mention that you have found friends there.

"I'd like staying in Gryffindor though." Harry quietly murmured, actually looking scared, and he frowned.

"If you like staying in Gryffindor, then I of course won't go against your choice, Harry, but I ask you to think it through though."

"I did." The boy said, looking at him warily. "I know that Ron is a git sometimes, but I'm sure that he'll calm down and – dunno, I just would like staying in Gryffindor."

"You won't go to the tower though, will you?" The boy ghost, Jamie, asked and he looked at both children.

"No." Harry said looking unsulrely at him, Snape, and he could watch the ghost form taking a deep breath of relief. "I'm not ready for that, I think, and I'd like to stay here where's my family. If I may, that is."

"Of course you may." Severus said. "You do have your room here and you have the same rights here as has your brother. You are both my sons after all."

Merlin! He had twins!

He already could hear Minerva, calling them the Snape-twins!

Groaning he placed his head into his hands for a moment before he looked over at the children with a quiet – "What have I gotten myself into with the two of you! The Snape-twins! I already can hear Minerva having her field day, especially as one of them is in her house." Well, if nothing had helped – but this caused both boys to smile happily.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_Interlude chapter three – Harry, Jamie and others_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading _– _and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you _– _and …

well … only three chapters to go after this one … :D …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

263 Points - Slytherin

212 Points - Ravenclaw

196 Points - Gryffindor

154 Points - Hufflepuff

Where were the Hufflepuffs this chapter? None of them was here …


	68. interlude three – Harry, Jamie and other

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

April, 26th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"You won't go to the tower though, will you?" The boy ghost, Jamie, asked and he looked at both children._

_"No." Harry said and he could watch the ghost form taking a deep breath of relief. "I'm not ready for that, I'd like to stay here where's my family. If I may, that is."_

_"Of course you may." Severus said. "You do have your room here and you have the same rights here as has your brother. You are both my sons after all."_

_Merlin! He had twins! _

_He already could hear Minerva, calling them the Snape-twins! _

_Groaning he placed his head into his hands for a moment before he looked over at the children with a quiet – "What have I gotten myself into with the two of you! The Snape-twins! I already can hear Minerva having her field day, especially as one of them is in her house." Well, if nothing had helped – but this caused both boys to smile happily._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter 68**

**Interlude chapter three – Harry, Jamie and others**

He felt someone watching him and turning he saw Jamie standing in the doorway, unsurely fidgeting, stepping from one foot to the other, and hesitantly he pushed himself up in his bed, for a moment even wondering how it was that Snape owned such a wonderful fluffy and comfortable bed to begin with, watching the ghost boy, wondering what he wanted. But then he waved him over. He wouldn't be able sleeping anyway.

He always had thought that ghosts would float, at least that was what all the other ghosts here at Hogwarts did, but Jamie didn't, and that definitely was strange. He didn't know if he really liked the other boy, but he didn't know if he really disliked him either.

A fact was that – Jamie had so far had a lot of time with Snape together and not only had this surely rubbed off on the other boy or well, Jamie had had a lot of time with his father and he hadn't had that time with him. Snape surely had done things with this other boy and not with him. On the other hand – he hadn't been awake even. It just was unfair and he just didn't know what to feel while he wanted to feel betrayed by both, his father for caring more about that ghost than about him, and this boy for steeling the man that was supposed to be his father while the man always had ignored him at the best and hurt him at the worst.

But then, well, he knew that jealousy would get him nowhere.

He was living with Snape now as the man had claimed him as his son, or reclaimed him, whatever.

And this ghost form of his, he was to live here too, and he would be his brother, if he liked it or not. He would have to deal with it, one way or another, never mind what.

And well, Snape at least _seemed_ to care or he wouldn't have gone through the trouble with those potions that sounded rather complicated.

So, all in all he couldn't change anything anyway and so he would have to deal with it and would have to make the best of it.

"You 'k?" Jamie asked, watching him warily and frowning he wondered if the ghost was as unsure as was he.

"Why would you care?" He asked, just as softly, knowing that Snape wouldn't be too pleased if he caught them whispering in the middle of the night, but well, what could the man do what his uncle hadn't done already? He knew that he better didn't push the Potions Master of all people, because he of all people, he knew what pain meant, how it felt and … and anything! And he knew that Snape surely would be able being as nasty as had been uncle Vernon.

Oh, he wasn't stupid. He was twelve after all and so he knew that uncle Vernon was nasty, and that it wasn't what was normal, that uncle Vernon just hadn't cared about that, because no other child had been killed so far from their relatives, not to his knowledge anyway. For a long time he had believed his uncle's words, that it had to be that way, that he was a lesser creature only, his only right of existence being in serving and suffering for his Masters. But he knew that this was nonsense, he had learned that during the time he'd been here at Hogwarts last year, from the other children.

"Why shouldn't I?" The ghost asked, pulling him out of his thoughts and he scowled.

"Because you have everything and because I have nothing!" He growled softly.

"I don't have everything." The ghost said. "I have no body and I'm dead. I'd fall through the floor if I didn't concentrate on keeping my body in one piece instead of millions or billions of those molecules or whatever they are."

"So?" He asked, eying the other boy warily. "Well, surely Snape had bought you a lot of stuff because you died."

"Yes, he did, he bought clothes and school things, and books." The ghost said, shrugging his shoulders. "But he bought that stuff for you too, and he said he'd take you to Diagon Alley too, so that you could chose a few things yourself too."

"Did he now?" He softly growled. "But you at least have Snape as a father."

"He's your father too." The ghost said, sighing, and he sounded annoyed. "Listen, if you want to be jealous, then you have to search for something different, because there's no reason to feel jealous. I have nothing you have not too, and you have all that I have."

"You have two useable legs." He growled and this time he wasn't too careful of not being heard.

"Great, and you are alive while I'm just a ghost, so what?" The other boy now growled too. "Not to mention that it's not my fault, I didn't do that! What do you want? I've been through everything you've been through, I've felt everything you've felt and I've feared everything you've feared! I'm your bloody ghost after all, I've been there too and I've died too! Dunno why I've come here even, you're just a git!"

And with those words the ghost turned, looking angry, his hands curled into fists and he knew – Jamie was right, he _was_ a git. It was just …

"Wait!" He called out, desperate. "Please."

He didn't want the other boy to go, not like this. But he also didn't know where his place was!

Of course this here was his room, and Jamie had his own room, and both of them were supposed to be in their respectable rooms, but he didn't want the other boy leaving while he was angry with him. It was just … why had Snape given him a room to begin with? An own room? And why had Snape cared enough to try this potions things? Why had Snape wanted _him_ to begin with and why had Snape taken him from the Dursleys in the middle of the summer holidays? Why had Snape given up his own holidays to – to what? To keep him alive? To heal him? To – to what? What was it with Snape and this ghost and him? What would happen now and how would … but then, it hadn't been in the middle of the summer holidays and Snape not given up his time.

"'m sorry." He said, looking at the ghost for a moment before averting his eyes and looking at the blanket Snape had covered him with. Again Snape, always Snape! Why? "It's just … dunno what will happen now and dunno why …"

Well, in the end he only was able to shrug his shoulders.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Idiot!" He sighed while going back to the bed Harry lay in.

Why did this Harry have to be so jealous? And so distrusting? Had he been the same two months ago when Snape had taken him to the infirmary and later on to his quarters?

Sighing he realized that – most likely, yes. And Sighing he realized that still he didn't trust the man completely, didn't trust him to really keep him, Jamie, now, now that he had Harry, the living boy, the boy who lived. And sighing he realized that – he didn't know what would happen now either.

Well, they had gone through some rules, earlier in the day, but well, that surely didn't mean anything? That surely was no guarantee for Snape to really keep him?

He could understand the other boy's fears, because he had the very same fears himself, but he couldn't understand why he would fear those things in the first place, seeing that he was the real boy while he, Jamie, only was a ghost.

"Before he'll abandon _you_, he'll abandon _me_, you idiot, because you're the real Harry Potter, or Harry Snape, you're the boy who lived, you're Snape's son, you're the child Lily Snape has given birth to and you're the child that belongs here." He softly said. "I'm just the ghost of all this, I'm just the knockoff and …"

"You are as much my son as is Harry, Jamie!" Snape's voice came from behind him, sounding more than just stern and he even could _feel_ how his blood left his face that surely went as pale as the blanket Harry was covered with, and slowly he turned, gulping, before he looked up at the man that stood there in the doorway, his arms crossed in front of his chest, scowling down at both of them and out of the corner of his eyes he could see Harry had gone just as pale and looked just as startled as did he. "You are not only the – _'ghost of all this'_ and you are not just the – _'knockoff'_ either – and so I do want _you_ as much as I do want Harry. I won't abandon any of you two and if I hear you talking like that ever again, then you will write a ten scroll essay about family and what familial bonds mean, what it would mean to me, loosing one of you two!"

The only thing he was able doing was – to nod.

Snape clearly was angry, and he clearly was _very_ angry.

Well, he had seen Snape angry before, last year in potions class, but that had been different. And he also had seen Snape angry a bit once or twice during the last two months since he was living with the man now, but that too was different because Snape hadn't been so very angry as he seemed right now. So surely he was in trouble, and Harry too, and Harry wouldn't even be able to run away from the man while he, Jamie, he'd be able to.

But he wouldn't!

He was scared, be barely was able to breath, so scared he was, but he wouldn't run, he wouldn't leave Harry back here with an angry Snape that could do anything while the other boy wasn't able to run away and therefore was trapped with the Potions Master, Harry had been through enough!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Merlin!

What had he gotten himself into with these twins!

The Snape-twins indeed!

They were supposed to sleep as it was past midnight! When did the boy sleep last year? Had he been awake until the early morning hours too back then? Why wouldn't he just sleep? He had slept earlier during the past two months while he'd been here in his quarters. At ten he'd been to bed, eleven at the latest and he'd been sleeping then!

Well, mostly at least, if he'd slept in the boy's room or if the boy had slept on the sofa here in the living room, but he had slept and now it was past midnight and there was not even a sign of sleep!

Well, they had discussed Harry's situation earlier in the day, after their breakfast where he had given the boy ghost the name Jamie, and it had gone exceptionally well, neither of them complaining about the rules he'd set. And then, shortly after breakfast healer Weed had visited and had brought the wheelchair he'd asked for – and had looked at the two children too – and together with the healer they had discussed their situation.

Well, to begin with, both children would visit St. Mungos for physical and sensory therapy once a week on Saturdays, Harry to get control over his life without the ability of using his legs, and Jamie for getting control over his molecules. Of course they would work on that during the week too, with simple exercises he could do with the children, with warm baths and with massages in the evening. Well, and added to that healer Weed would visit once a week, on Wednesday evenings, for counselling, all of them, he, Severus, too, would partake in the counselling, because Weed had told him that surely there would arise situations where he would need help, because he was thrown into fatherhood from one day to the other and to twins no less, a ghost child and an disabled child even, and both children already being pre-teens.

And so with a suffering sigh he had agreed.

The two children had gone into Jamie's room after that, Jamie pushing Harry around in his new wheelchair and Weed and he had talked for a bit longer after that. Weed had told him that they would need rituals and rules despite their being a ghost or disabled, that the rules would give them a sense of safety and that the rules gave them a place, would help them to know where exactly they stood. He also had warned him that they would try him, that they would test his limits – and theirs – and how far beyond those limits they could push him. The blasted man had even prepared him for the twins to alley and to conspire against him!

But the idiot man had not prepared him for the two scared children he had at his hand right now, one laying in bed and clearly fearing the worst while knowing that he wouldn't be able to flee him easily, while the other one stood in front of him, scared and as pale as he rarely had seen the ghost child – but he could see the change going through the boy, his pale face going resolute, green eyes looking up at him, narrowed, warily, while small fists clenched, seemed to lift themselves, ghostlike legs taking a more stable stance and – it was clear that the small ghost child would defend his physical but disabled brother, would fight him, his father, physically if needed and ignoring Harry he locked his black eyes with the green ones of the child that he just now realized was – the Harry from last year. Defiantly, all false bravado and grim even, ready for the worst – what a mask the child displayed, but he knew that it was a mask only, now he knew, because he knew the child now.

"If I remember correctly, and I am sure that I do, then one of the rules we have set this afternoon only was for you two being in bed at ten." He calmly said. "And now it is past midnight even. If you felt unable of falling asleep, then you could have informed me and I could have provided both of you with a potion that would have helped." He then added, careful of his words and tone. "That is the benefit of your father being a Potions Master. I won't however have you going against the rules once they are set or we wouldn't have to set them in the first place."

The boy gritting his teeth and straining his muscles told him enough and for a moment he wondered if he should take the small fighter into his arms to startle him, or if he should scowl down at the boy until he gave way. Somehow however he knew that the boy wouldn't and that it only would go out of hands if he weren't careful now.

"Any explanations, Misters Snape?" He asked, trying to sound as emotionless as possible.

"No, sir." Was Jamie's answer and even the boy's tone was defiantly while at the same time he could watch the small form in front of him trembling, a pale forehead getting damp while green eyes still watched him warily, a child's eyes narrowed at him, the adult – what a thought! The child didn't even reach his chest but his stomach only and a gust of wind would blow him to the side while just glancing at him!

Sighing he shook his head before he simply reached over to take the boy's shoulders and led him out of his way while he sat onto the bed, ignoring the startled scream and the small fists that came up, but not in defence of himself this time but to somehow keep him from advancing on the bed – effortlessly. And sitting down he just took the small fists into his own hands and held them while his dark eyes never left the clearly horrid green eyes of the child that weren't narrowed anymore but large with fear. He even could hear his son's heart beating furiously against the small chest.

"I would not have hurt Harry, Jamie." He softly said. "Nor you."

There was no answer but he hadn't expected one anyway, the child most likely right now not even able to give a verbal answer, only standing there, motionlessly, his stance still clearly showing that he was prepared for the worst, that he even was prepared for pain.

"I do appreciate your willingness to defend and protect your brother, Jamie, and nothing else would I have expected of you, but not only do I ask you to trust in me, that I never will hurt either of you, that I never will beat either of you and that I never will harm either of you, but also do I ask you to let common sense rule over your first impulse and _not_ go against an adult but ask for help, because I already have told you that you wouldn't stand a chance and it is not your place to fight against an adult wizard." He then added, hoping that the child would understand the hint.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Well, it had been easier than he had first feared and a moment later the small form that was standing in front of him still, with muscles locked to absorb pain – the child had sagged against him from one second to the other, crying and only his quick reflexes had prevented the small ghost form to hit either the bed or the floor – a moment later he'd had a second child in his arms that was crying, again, two sobbing messes that smeared tears and snot all over his robes!

Merlin indeed, what had he gotten himself into with these two!

He wouldn't have found Jamie standing at the foot of Harry's bed and blaming himself for only Merlin knew what, both children whispering and most likely hoping that he, Snape, wouldn't notice, and he wouldn't have if he hadn't had a look into the children's rooms, starting with Jamie's only to find the room empty, the boy having sneaked out of his room like he'd done a few days ago to go to classes while he hadn't been allowed there.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

On a different part of the castle there was another boy laying in bed, awake and unable to sleep, like so often lately – it was Ronald Weasley, wondering how it had come to that. Last year they'd been friends, and now Harry was living with Snape, was Snape's son even, had become a Slytherin and all the others were against him, Ron. And he knew that even Snape was amenable with all this, a fact that startled him as much as Harry's reaction had startled him, had made him angry even!

It had been _him_, him and Hermione who had comforted Harry all last year long when their friend had been ill, having to search for a toilet before each potions lesson, unable to keep his breakfast down because he'd been so scared of Snape who only would hurt him with all he could think of. It had been him who had run after him whenever a potions lesson was over to calm his friend down, mostly finding him in a hidden corner somewhere in a castle where he was crying because of Snape and he had never understood why Snape had been able hurting Harry as much as he had, why Harry had not just ignored it.

And then Harry had gone with Snape during the welcoming feast and he hadn't been back for some time, and after that – well, Snape had brought Harry back to the tower, and _then_, there had been the last potions lesson, the one after Snape had taken Harry from the tower a few weeks ago.

**Flashback**

_"Harry, you are next, come here please." Snape said after he'd called the Slytherins and he nearly gaped at the man who had called Harry – Harry, who had called Harry by his given name, who had – he barely noticed Harry getting off the chair in the back of the classroom where he'd been sitting alone, and he realized that he hadn't been there this time, before this potions class, to comfort Harry when he lost his breakfast because he was so scared of Snape. _

_But maybe it wasn't even necessary anymore, because Snape had called Harry by his given name and what was more important – Snape didn't look like he normally did, he didn't scowl at Harry and he didn't hiss at him and he didn't look as if he would like giving Harry a good beating, he didn't look cold and emotionless – well yes, he did look emotionless, but there was something else and he could see it!_

_Snape liked Harry! He liked him and that was so very unrealistic, so very idiotic, it simply wasn't possible because Snape hated Harry, Snape never would be able liking Harry! _

_And Harry really got the front of the classroom instead of running from it! How stupid could Harry be? Did he really trust Snape now? But well, on the other hand, what could Harry do? Snape was the teacher after all and as the student only Harry had no chance against him. Even if he did something stupid now that might safe him, Snape would let Harry pay for it later!_

_And he knew that Snape wouldn't ask as easy questions as he'd asked the Snakes, knew that he would have Harry answering really nasty questions and only Merlin knew how many of them and …_

_"Just trust me." Snape softly said when Harry took the vial but didn't drink the potion and he wondered why Harry was looking up at Snape as if silently asking the man to let him go! Harry knew Snape after all, knew that Snape wouldn't let him off the hook, not Harry, before he let Harry go he rather would let him, Ron, go, or Hermione! _

_"I won't hurt you." He heard Snape adding quietly, the Potions Master most likely thinking that no one heard him, but as the younger brother of twins like George and Fred, he had to listen closely to what they where always whispering about or he would be in much more trouble with them than he already always was, and so he heard what Snape said to Harry._

_What he didn't understand was how Harry could be so much an idiot and to believe Snape, to take a sip of the potions! How could he trust a teacher like Snape? Snape would only …_

_"Well done, Harry." Snape then whispered, leaning down a bit even and – and smiled! Not smirked or anything like that but smiled at Harry! That couldn't be right, that surely …_

_"Now, would you please tell me if your given name is written with one or with two 'r'?" Snape then asked, his voice back to normal so that he was well heard in the classroom._

**End flashback**

Well, that had been all Snape had asked of Harry, of Potter, of Snape, of that thing, that ghost!

He hated him meanwhile!

They'd been friends at one point in the past, but Harry had betrayed him and he hated him so very much for it, he couldn't understand it!

Harry had been his first own friend, nothing he'd got from his older brothers, no used cloak or wand or rat, nothing they'd had, but a friend he had gotten himself, and before any of them, and Harry had been his! HIS!

But then Harry had betrayed him and – nothing ever belonged to him! Nothing!

Throwing the pillow through the dorm he swore himself that he would find a way to pay back all the pain he felt right now, ignoring the "stop throwing things, wanna sleep!" from Neville while he crept over to Dean's bed, knowing that at least Dean would help him, knowing that Dean would come up with something special like he always did, knowing that with Dean on his side he could destroy Harry in taking all from him, like he'd done with him, Ron!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

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><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_How to handle twins, potions and magic_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading – and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

267 Points - Slytherin

213 Points - Ravenclaw

200 Points - Gryffindor

156 Points - Hufflepuff

Well done, more points everywhere than there had been lately ...


	69. how to handle a child, a son and a twin

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

April, 28th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Added Notes:**

The chapter before last – I fear it is time to prepare you that – with the next chapter, chapter seventy, this story will be over and though it is not my first story to end – it is a strange feeling anyway …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_They'd been friends at one point in the past, but Harry had betrayed him and he hated him so very much for it, he couldn't understand it!_

_Harry had been his first own friend, nothing he'd got from his older brothers, no used cloak or wand or rat, nothing they'd had, but a friend he had gotten himself, and before any of them, and Harry had been his! HIS!_

_But then Harry had betrayed him and – nothing ever belonged to him! Nothing!_

_Throwing the pillow through the dorm he swore himself that he would find a way to pay back all the pain he felt right now, ignoring the "stop throwing things, wanna sleep!" from Neville while he crept over to Dean's bed, knowing that at least Dean would help him, knowing that Dean would come up with something special like he always did, knowing that with Dean on his side he could destroy Harry in taking all from him, like he'd done with him, Ron!_

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter sixty-nine **

**How to handle a child, a son and a twin**

When he came into the room Harry was no longer laying in his bed, was no where in clear sight actually and he turned, panicking for a moment, observing the room. The blankets were laying on the floor, a glass, broken, lay beside, and the boy was not in his bed – it was clear what had happened and silently he cursed while at the same time he couldn't help thinking that - well, at least the door to the dungeons corridors were locked and the windows were faked by the castle, the child couldn't flee his quarters, couldn't run aimlessly through the castle.

Turning again he frowned when he saw the child, laying at the floor in a corner near the door and his first impulse was to approach the boy, his son, before he took a closer look. The small face was as white as was chalk, bathed in perspiration and the green eyes twitched in clear panic to and fro between the door to his room and him, Snape. He was laying there, breathing heavily, quivering and cramped in clnear pain and fear.

What worried him however the most was – in his right hand he held a knife, the knife he'd cut the chicken breast with for dinner last night and he sighed. He knew that he should have paid more attention to the table being cleared after dinner last night, just a few hours ago.

Well, the boy had fallen asleep shortly after dinner and Jamie had left the room, had gone to his own room and to bed, had fallen asleep too shortly after his brother. He had been sitting beside Jamie's bed for some time, had watched the Boy Ghost sleeping – and when he came back to Harry's room, to have a look at him again before retreating for bed himself, he had found the child's bed empty.

Well, at least Harry was not pointing the knife at himself or at his wrist but at him, Snape – so he did not intend hurting himself, but was just scared. He would be able dealing with _that _and it was definitely better than the other way round and slowly he nodded, closing his eyes for a moment, relieved and worried both at the same.

He knew that the child was not really aware of anything, not of his surroundings, not of him, Snape, and not of himself, Harry, being saved and out of his uncle's house. In his eyes he most likely was still in his cupboard, after his uncle had – somehow – killed him, after his uncle had cut off his scar, leaving a large bleeding area behind, horror indeed, and he only being a twelve year old child having to deal with that.

But well, as long as the child had the knife in his hand he couldn't do anything anyway, not if he didn't wish the child accidentally hurting himself. Even if he summoned the knife now, the movement the blade made by getting out his hand would cut the boy's palm. And he also knew that, even if the child might have seen reason last night and during the day – after two months of torture he'd endured at the hands of his uncle, torture no child should endure, no human being at all should ever endure, in a panic attack he might be ready to do all to defend himself, maybe even killing him if he gave him a reason to, he'd had two months of time for learning how to after all, two months during which he had seen enough pain, fear, horror and finally death.

Slowly he sat down into the armchair he had occupied earlier during the past weeks since he had taken the boy to his quarters, close to the child, Harry being paler than he ever had seen the child, his green eyes large and fixed at him, and he knew that he had to move slowly, that he only would scare the child into action if he gave a quick move away now.

Well, again – he stood again at the same spot – he would have to watch his movements and his voice all the times, to be slow, careful and quiet, a tiring task, keeping up ones selfcontrol to two hundred percent, but well, if someone would manage, then it was him, he knew.

His black eyes still fixed on the child, on his son, he summoned a cup of coffee, knowing that he would need the caffeine later, knowing that it could be a long night, and softly he started speaking, allowing his voice to drop deeper than it normally was.

"Alright." He said. "You are in an advantage here, child, as you have the knife. But allow me to have a look at your situation. You have been tortured by your uncle for about eight weeks, two months, and that's the sixth part of a year – a long time, child, for an eleven year old boy, it can be a lifetime even." He registered Harry wincing and moving convulsively, as if he remembered some of those weeks in his uncle's house. "It is a very long time for an eleven year old child, Harry, and I can see all the pain and all the fear radiating off you, while you are not ready to trust in anyone, let alone in me, and as strange as this might sound to you, I do understand you and the situation you are in."

He took a sip of his coffee and turned the cup in his hands, dark eyes fixed on the green ones, and he tried to talk reasonably with the child, like with an equal instead of a child that was only Merlin knew where with his awareness. There was no answer from the child, but he hadn't expected one either, he wasn't even sure if the child had even heard him, understood or recognized his words.

"But, can you give me just one good reason as to why you shouldn't try it?" He then asked. "I mean, you trying to trust in me, only one good reason? Come on, child, think it over, what could you lose?"

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry tried to speak, but it didn't work and he passed his tongue over his dry lips, his breath going flat and faster when he tried to sit up by himself. He hated himself, because he allowed Snape to see how weak he was and he tried to clench his teeth and collect his last reserves, but he wasn't able to.

"My life." He pressed out, his voice a raspy whisper, soft and feeble, but then he nearly sighed. "But maybe it'd be better anyway."

He hated himself because he couldn't keep a grip at himself. He hated Snape for seeing him in such a situation, in such a condition, he at least knew that for all his life – if he survived this here, somehow – he never would be able looking into Snape's eyes ever again.

And for a few moments he got a bit of his power back, was able to support himself up the wall behind his back, to hold the knife firmer even, and his eyes fixed onto Snape's with clear provocation.

Snape at the same time watched Harry's reactions with calm and dark eyes, carefully, but he had to grit his teeth in order to keep as calm as he appeared right now instead of getting off his chair and rushing over to his son. He had watched the child's weak movements and he had to admit that he had been more than simply worried, but then he had watched his son becoming defiantly, and following his reactions he straightened himself, his eyes narrowed when he watched the child regaining some strength, silently urging him on with his gaze.

But it only worked for a moment and then the weakness was back and the child slipped down the wall, his hand with the knife lowering a bit even, and the provocation in his eyes was gone, replaced by the hopelessness and horror, the pain and the distress which had been in his eyes before.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It was more than an hour later now and Snape was still sitting in his armchair, watching his son but inwardly he felt anything than the calmness he tried to display still. Most of the time he had been trying to speak to the child, tiring him out, sometimes he was just sitting there without saying anything, watching the child, and for over an hour now he had seen. It was nearly midnight now, and all the time he had seen, had seen how Harry's fight against him had become weaker and weaker.

**Flashback**

_"This is different, Weed." He growled. "Harry is not Jamie and I fear that it will be much harder to handle Harry than it had been handling Jamie. Jamie only – some kind of – died there, what already is bad enough, but Harry was there for nearly two days longer, nearly two days during which Dursley apparently approached top form in his torturing sessions."_

_"There barely can be much more, Snape, than what Jamie has been through as well." Weed said and he nearly rolled his eyes. _

_"Of course Jamie has been through hell, he killed his owl in the oven and he had the child tied to the kitchen table, beating him bloody while he forced him to watch his owl dying. He has broken his backbones and left him disabled, not to mention all those other injuries the child sustained there over the months and weeks, but after Jamie has been chased out of the house, this bastard cut off the scar on Harry's forehead, whatever reason for, and I still don't know if he was conscious at that point. There were more broken bones, more bloody welts and more internal and external injuries that were life-threatening actually and I'm not really sure how he managed to survive all of this to begin with."_

_"Never mind that, Snape, you will have no other chance than dealing with the child one way or another, so, what do you plan?" Weed asked and he took a deep breath. Just because Weed was a capable healer when it came to working with children, didn't mean that he had to like the man too. Where he, Snape, didn't get along with children, there Weed only got along with them but not with adults. _

_"That will depend on the situation." He growled. "But if it comes to the worst, then I will do what I always do and have the child tiring himself out, that is all."_

_"That is all?" Weed asked, looking at him incredulously. "That is all you say, Snape? You do realize, Snape, that the moment you have the boy at his lowest point, he will … then everything will lay in your hand, then the entire responsibility for him and all that is his and him, it will be laying on your shoulders. You will be responsible for his whole life, for his whole future, for everything, for his mind, for his body, for … you will have to straighten him, to keep him sane, to … you will have to work with him from the very first beginning on and form him anew, are you really ready to do that?"_

_"I will have to do that anyway!" He growled darkly at the man. "I am his father after all and I will hold all the responsibility in my hands anyway, so spare both of us your doubt and your dramatics, Weed. We will have to manage for the child's sake, and that is all that is important right now. He will have to trust me on his own accord and by his own free will, or he will never trust me at all."_

**End flashback**

Well yes, he knew that this point had come now, Harry was at his lowest and the child's entire future lay in his, Snape's, hands right now. The child looked sick, his pale face gray and the green eyes clouded, more dead than alive, and he closed his eyes for another moment, knowing that now, at near midnight, the moment he had waited for, had feared most, had come – Harry had lost the knife, hadn't had any more strength to hold it, his eyes looking desperate and hopeless.

The boy knew – he had lost and he, Snape, he had won, while at the same time he couldn't fight anymore, should he, Snape, do with him what he wanted, but he couldn't fight anymore.

He stood, slowly, and slowly and carefully he went over to Harry, squatting down beside the small form. Very slowly and with fixing his eyes at the child he took the knife off the floor and threw it aside, out of the child's reach, and forcing himself to ignore the desperation and the hopelessness in his son's eyes, the panic and the pain, he reached out and took the small hand in his own, causing him to flinch away, but Harry was too weak to really draw his hand back. A moment later the child gave up even trying.

Slowly he pulled the child closer, pulled his son into his arms, and he barely was able to take one single deep breath while he struggled to breathe at all, struggled to get his own overflowing emotions back under control, struggling to get that iron grip off his chest.

"Hush now, child." He whispered, slowly, his voice gentle and low. "It is alright, calm down." Picking the child off the floor he went back to the armchair he had been sitting in for half the night and holding the trembling and shaking child in his arms he sat down and took a deep breath – the only thing he could do right now, was talking to the child, speaking to him and hoping that the boy would listen to him, would believe him, would calm down. "It is alright, child. I only wish to help you and nothing will happen to you here, trust me, do not fear me, son, it is alright, you are safe here and I won't have any harm befall you here."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Slowly he woke and with waking – awareness hit him full force.

He had made a fool out of himself, an absolute fool, and he had most likely destroyed _anything_ that might have formed between Jamie, Snape and him so far.

And there, it all had started with him, Harry, going to bed.

He had fallen asleep rather soon, he couldn't even remember when Snape had left his room, and he'd had the weirdest dream imaginable, something about a lion climbing up the walls of the castle and tapping at the window in his dorm at the Gryffindor tower, landing on a balcony – that wasn't even there – and attacking the lions there. But suddenly there hadn't been a lion anymore but Snape, and Snape hadn't attacked but told them, Jamie and him, to stay inside while out there in the darkness of the night had been planets, burning planets falling down, falling on houses and on people and he'd been scared, and then the lion even had been back and grabbing people who came close to the windows and throwing them down, and he'd been so scared that the beast would take Snape!

He'd woken after that, and he immediately had known that this was one of those dreams that weren't nightmares but that were so strange, he never ever again would forget about it!

He'd been thirsty then, and he'd wanted to take the glass of water Snape had placed on the nightstand, but somehow he had lost his balance while leaning over, and he'd been unable to use his legs for keeping his balance either, and so he'd fallen off the bed, the glass shattering into thousand tiny pieces, and then one had led to the next.

Well, worst of all had been, that he'd been alone.

He'd fallen off the bed, the glass of water shattering on the floor and no one had been there to help him back into his bed, or to tell him that it would be alright, or to tell him that _he'd_ be alright in the end.

He'd tried to crawl back into the bed, but he hadn't managed pulling himself up and he'd given up at one point or another, had thought about his situation.

Where was Snape when he needed him? As scared as he was of the man, he really would have been glad if Snape had been there, even if the man would have had to pick him up and that really was a humiliating thing. But of course, it would figure that the moment he admitted that Snape in his life as his father wouldn't be so bad, that the Slytherin head of house would disappear just then. It only figured that he wouldn't care, because no one had ever cared about him and no one had ever stayed either.

"Please, come and help me!" He had whispered, not daring to call for the man aloud, not daring to make any noise, because he'd remembered what happened if he made noise, he'd known what happened if he called out for help aloud, but he'd wondered if anyone would come and help him here. He had been so scared, and he had been in pain, and he still had been so thirsty.

Looking through the room his eyes had fallen onto the bulky shadow of uncle Vernon and with a suppressed scream that had come out as a gasp he had pulled himself towards the wall near the door, under the table that stood there and trying to grasp anything that could have helped him against his uncle.

He'd known that he'd be unable defending himself against his uncle, he'd known that he'd been trapped, and he hated it.

He'd taken hold of the tablecloth and pulling it down accidentally, but at least that way he'd gotten hold of the knife.

The problem had been – the noise had gotten uncle Vernon's attention too and the man had come over and had taken him at the scuff of his neck, had thrown him into his cupboard. He'd told him that he would stay in there until he'd die, until he'd die of hunger and thirst, that he wouldn't allow him anything to eat or drink ever again, that he would let him die in there, because he'd had enough of him, the freak.

**Flashback**

_"Please uncle Vernon, please, please don't leave me here. I'll be good, I'll be real good, I promise, and I'm sorry for whatever I've done and I won't do it anymore, and please, please just don't leave me in the shed, please, uncle Vernon, please _…_" He sobbed while his uncle ripped away his clothes until he was naked and shivering with cold and fright, and then wrapped the ropes around his wrists, tightly enough so that it hurt already before he forced him to stand in the middle of the shed, tying the other end of the robe to one of the beams above and hauling him up until he had to stand on his toes. _

_"Please, uncle Vernon, please, I'll be good, please …" He still sobbed, raw and plain fear driving him mad, unable to draw deep breathes, fearing he'd suffocate, but the man only turned to leave, the bulky shadow blocking the moonlight from the door before he looked back with a "have a few nice Christmas holidays, freak, and enjoy the visitors."_

_The door slammed shut and Harry softly sobbed in his dark and cold prison._

**End flashback**

The next thing he knew was that he woke here in Snape's arms again, and the wet spots on the man's robes were proof enough that he had cried in the man's arms again.

"Harry?" Snape's voice asked, softly, getting him out of his thoughts.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He'd been glad that Jamie hadn't come in during all this, the boy ghost surely would have gotten into a panic himself at that sight, and now he also was glad that he had the child back. What worried him however more, much more, what nearly had his blood boiling – again – was the memory he'd seen, the memory that clearly was there, a shed, and the boy being tied up there, naked, and Dursley's words – enjoy the visitors. The memory had ended there, but he was no fool and he didn't dare imagining what exactly those words meant.

"Harry?" He asked to get the boy away from his thoughts. It wouldn't do any good to the child to fall into a depression, not now, not while still recovering and not while still learning how to trust him.

"I … I didn't have to do anything." The boy whispered, his voice sounding painfully rough with emotions.

"Anything? For what?" He asked, not understanding, but also speaking in a whisper.

"For the D-Dursleys to hate me." The child murmured, looking at his hand that was taken into his, Snape's, larger ones. "I tried so hard to … to be good, but they always hated me, never mind how much I tried, never mind how much I worked and tried to be good and to help and … they just hated me."

"You won't be hated here ever, child." He softly said, placing his hand at the child's back of his head and pulling his head close against his shoulder. "And I think we simply will leave your door open in future so that you won't feel alone and helpless ever again. We even could add a doorway between yours and Jamie's rooms, if that is yours and Jamie's wish."

"Please do." The child said, looking up at him with startled green eyes and it was clear that he hadn't thought that he would do such a thing, the small face nearly hopeful.

"Please do." Came Jamie's voice from the doorway, and he groaned, turning towards the door to look at the ghost child standing there, unsurely, and with just as large eyes as Harry had.

"So be it then." He said, knowing that this surely would not be the last and only moment where the two boys were clearly acting like twins and he only was left to wonder now if it would become less with time, when the difference in age between the two would get larger. "We will do so first thing tomorrow morning, Misters Snape. Are you both now finally ready to have a few hours of sleep at least until sunrise or do you intend on staying up all night?"

"Sorry, sir." Harry said, averting his eyes.

"Sorry, sir." Jamie echoed, looking over the floor.

"Do come here, Jamie." He sighed, waving the boy over and lifting Harry's blanket so the child could slip into his brother's bed. "I wonder if I not simply have one of these two rooms being your bedroom and the other one being your playroom, as apparently you are not to be separated for a few hours each day anyway, lest you stay awake all night long for the remainder of your days."

The two children grinning at each other while Jamie slipped into Harry's bed caused him to sigh again.

The Snape-twins, indeed.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**Next time in The boy that forgot to die**

_The end_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

269 Points - Slytherin

217 Points - Ravenclaw

202 Points - Gryffindor

156 Points - Hufflepuff

Well done, more points everywhere than there had been lately ...


	70. the end

**Title:**

The boy that forgot to die

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

April, 30th 2012

**Timeframe:**

Second year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

**Disclaimer: **

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, not about most of the other characters in HP either … I however would like to own one Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … also, this is the story written for NaNo, a story written within 30 days only and even if I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories you are used to by me now … thank you …

**Added Notes:**

And here it is, the very last chapter of this particular story, Harry, Jamie and Severus being a small family within the otherwise rather large world of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry around them – but what will happen while the school year continues on? Will their adventures lead them into the chamber of secrets? What will happen at the end of the school year?

Questions that might be answered in a sequel to this story – the boy that forgot to live …

I do thank all of you for reading and reviewing, for giving your opinion and for thinking about the story and asking questions, for partaking in the house cup and for – simply holding true to this story …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …

I only say - remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

><p>Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine<p>

**Previously in The boy that forgot to die**

_"You won't be hated here ever, child." He softly said, placing his hand at the child's back of his head and pulling his head close against his shoulder. "And I think we simply will leave your door open in future so that you won't feel alone and helpless ever again. We even could add a doorway between yours and Jamie's rooms, if that is yours and Jamie's wish."_

_"Please do." The child said, looking up at him with startled green eyes and it was clear that he hadn't thought that he would do such a thing, the small face nearly hopeful._

_"Please do." Came Jamie's voice from the doorway, and he groaned, turning towards the door to look at the ghost child standing there, unsurely, and with just as large eyes as Harry had._

_"So be it then." He said, knowing that this surely would not be the last and only moment where the two boys were clearly acting like twins and he only was left to wonder now if it would become less with time, when the difference in age between the two would get larger. "We will do so first thing tomorrow morning, Misters Snape. Are you both now finally ready to have a few hours of sleep at least until sunrise or do you intend on staying up all night?"_

_"Sorry, sir." Harry said, averting his eyes._

_"Sorry, sir." Jamie echoed, looking over the floor._

_"Do come here, Jamie." He sighed, waving the boy over and lifting Harry's blanket so the child could slip into his brother's bed. "I wonder if I not simply have one of these two rooms being your bedroom and the other one being your playroom, as apparently you are not to be separated for a few hours each day anyway, lest you stay awake all night long for the remainder of your days."_

_The two children grinning at each other while Jamie slipped into Harry's bed caused him to sigh again._

_The Snape-twins, indeed._

**The boy that forgot to die**

**Chapter seventy **

**The end**

The next few days really had been anything than easy sometimes, had put the Potions Master to a severe test, but well, he had known _that_ from the beginning on, that it would be as difficult as it had been with Jamie in the beginning.

There had been moments when Harry had been alright, and he and Jamie were even playing together, wizarding chess or Gobstones, or one or another card game, sometimes his quarters being filled with the children's laugher of his two sons, soft laugher, but laugher nonetheless, while sometimes his quarters being quiet with both children silently reading one book or another – or just sitting there, thinking.

But then there were moments where the boy seemed to even lack the strength of leaving his bed in the morning, or moments during which he seemed to be withdrawn so deeply into himself that he didn't notice anything going on around him, sitting in his wheelchair, rocking, sometimes even giving away a strange humming sound that worried him more than anything else, that scared Jamie out of his wits each time until this boy too was – sitting on the armchair, or chair, or sofa, wherever he was sitting in the first place, rocking back and forth too, unable to keep the emotional pain of all this under control for any longer.

During those times he actually cursed his situation and the fact that he didn't know which child he should look after first, unable to keep himself from thinking of how fruitless and aimless all of this was, them taking one step forwarts just to take at least two steps backwards, and the only thing he soon had discovered helped was to simply take both children and sit down with them on the sofa until their distress lessened, whether it was because of them getting tired, or of them actually getting calmer.

On other moments the boy had been so very restless while weak at the same time, and he didn't know how he could calm the child, sure that the boy would pace if he could, but as he was unable to, he just somehow moved whatever he could move, tapping with his fingers over the armrest of his wheel-chair or tapping his fingers at the table, moving his head or jerking, waving his arms, hands, he couldn't really name it but it clearly was a sign of restlessness that couldn't be expressed and he knew that he had to find something for the child, a possibility to move at least his upper body while at the same time he needed something to help the child regaining and saving his strength.

And well, then again there had been moments where Harry seemed to be in pain, in physical pain, laying in his bed, curled into a tight ball, trembling and shivering, bathed in perspiration and softly crying while trying to hide his tears until he supplied the boy with a pain reliever after he either noticed himself that the child was in pain, or Jamie came to get him.

There had been one particular evening during which Harry even had scratching himself bloody in his seemingly blinding pain, had clawed at the scar on his forehead that had only recently healed and while he never had been able to make out the original source of the pain Harry still seemed to be in sometimes, since this evening he knew that it was that scar, not the curse scar, but the scar caused by Dursley when the man had tried to cut the original scar off the boy's forehead.

**Flashback**

_The horrifying scene seemed to have no end and he didn't know what to do anymore. It was clear that Harry was in pain, in horrible pain – again – but he didn't know what he could do. He already had given him a pain reliever, more than just one actually, but it had been in vain, it didn't help, not one bit and this time the child even had started scratching his scar bloody. _

_He tried to hold the child in his arms, but over and over again the boy squirmed out of his grasp._

_He tried to speak with him, but the boy didn't seem to understand what he told him and he didn't dare tightening his grasp, fearing he could accidentally break the small and delicate limbs that had been broken often enough already without his assistance in this, and he was sure that if he could use his legs, then he would have managed squirming out of his arms completely. _

_"Stop it." He said, having an actual fight to keep his voice soft and calm while he could watch Jamie sitting on his own bed, the pale face a horrified mask, shaking and – again – rocking back and forth, and it was clear that the child was completely out of it himself. He had told him to leave the room earlier, when Harry had started scratching at his scar, but Jamie had refused, stubbornly, and now he was too deep in his own shock to even understand when he again told him to leave. _

_"Stop that, child, come now, Harry, you are only hurting yourself." He said, trying to get through to his son. He could give the boy another pain reliever, but he already had given him more potions than he should have given him to begin with and he only would manage to poison him if he followed this line. "Merlin, we need a solution for that, and soon! This is going out of hands. No, you won't scratch at your scar again, Harry, just calm down and allow your system to accept the potion, it will get better, I promise. Damn, stop that, Harry! Now!"_

_Well, his only success in loosing his patience was getting the child deeper into his panic and taking a deep breath he closed his eyes to get his own horror back under control._

_He knew that he wouldn't get the child out of his panic, out of his horror, anytime soon, but he knew that he had to or the pain reliever wouldn't react in his body. _

_"Zilly." He softly called out, annoyed at the fact that his voice trembled. He was Severus Snape and his voice never trembled, never! "I need you to stay with Jamie, Zilly." He said. "Try to keep him as calm as possible."_

_A moment later he adjusted his grip so that he had one free hand which he placed at the child's forehead. _

_A moment later his own world exploded._

**End flashback**

It had been the scene where Dursley had cut the child's scar off his forehead, screaming at him that he would cut off the devil's mark as he had been unsuccessful in beating the evilness out of him and suddenly he had understood. It wasn't real physical pain that had caused Harry to scratch his own forehead bloody, but the memory of the pain, the mental pain that was so horrifying that the child couldn't control it anymore, that the child felt it physically.

Of course the pain reliever never had worked the way it should have and he immediately had brewed a mixture of a nerve suppressing potion, a system stabilizing draught and a calming potion. The nerve repressing potion simply would not deactivate, but to a limit restrain the boy's nerves from feeling any phantom pains his brain suggested while being caught in a memory, the system stabilizing draught would – simply do that, stabilizing Harry's system while being in a panic attack, and the calming potion would help him to – well, calm down quickly and effectively before he got so deep into the attack that he would lose reality.

Of course he'd known that this wouldn't be the end of the story, that Harry still would be scared of him at some moments, that he would shrink back from him, that he would try to retreat as deeply into the sofa or his bed as possible, or that he would try to hide to begin with. Jamie after all still had such moments, and Jamie was living with him for nearly two months now.

But it had become better after that, it had become really noticeably better, and that had been all he had asked for, he knew that he would be able dealing with this now.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It actually was nearly two weeks later than they had planned it, but now, on this very Monday morning, and they finally were on their way to the great hall. They had tried a few times during the past two weeks, to visit the great hall, and maybe going to one lesson or another after that, Jamie had visited lessons after all during the first few weeks back at Hogwarts, but each time Harry had nearly had a panic attack when leaving their quarters and they had given up, next when leaving the dungeons corridors and again they had given up. The third time they had managed ascending the stairs to the entrance hall before Harry had been unable to keep his panic down.

It never had become as bad as it had in the past, but it had been there, the panic attack, and the Potions Master had decided to not try anything with his son.

But now it was.

He had told Harry that this time they would have to go through with this, Harry and Jamie had to go back to classes one day and he, Severus, he had to go back to teaching, they had to partake in the life around them one day, and he had insisted that this time they really went through with this while at the same time he had promised Harry that – he would be there. Nothing more, but nothing less, he would be there.

He had given the boy a cent coin, muggle money so that he couldn't spend it accidentally, and the small coin would get him home and onto the sofa in their living quarters whenever he enclosed it in his fist and thought of home. That at least had helped and he had been more confident during breakfast that morning.

And so he, right now, was pushing the wheel-chair along the dungeons corridors, waving his wand and a door appeared through which he pushed the wheel-chair, entering a small room – a lift the castle had installed just last night and he smirked at the wide eyed twins. It really was a good thing that the castle always knew what they needed and he had been informed about a few elevators having been installed throughout the castle floors.

He simply took this as a good sign to start this day.

They exited the lift when they arrived at the entrance hall and he pushed the wheel-chair through the large hall that led to many different places within the castle, to many different corridors and stairways that led upstairs and downstairs, while Jamie to his right kept his pace and Harry in his wheel-chair was clearly nervous while unable to walk this way by himself, most likely worrying over how his classmates would react.

At the door Jamie stopped and the boy looked over at him, uncertainly and scared, causing Harry to do the same, to halfway turn in his wheel-chair and looking up at him, just as unsurely and just as scared. He placed his right hand on the neck of his ghost son while he at the same time placed his left hand on the forehead of his physical son, looking down at both forms for a moment until he felt them relaxing.

"Thanks, dad." Jamie whispered, giving Severus a small smile while Harry only nodded at him, trying to give a smile as well but failing for a moment – until he lifted his eyebrow at the boy.

He didn't know what it was with these two, but since they were – twins, his sons – they seemed to find his lifted eyebrow amusing somehow and now he earned himself a small smile from the boy that was so much graver than the other still, a small smile for his eyebrow turning up.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It wasn't as if he went there for the first time, but he felt like it nevertheless, as if walking – or rather _entering_, being _brought_, whatever, anything but walking because he wasn't – into the hall for the first time, and he knew that Jamie felt the same. Of course he knew that Jamie had come here a few times during the past few weeks, but he also knew that he felt the same, like walking in there for the first time as a ghost form.

Of course it wasn't exactly like back then, like last year when he'd been here for the very first time, because everything had been different back then. Now he and Jamie and Severus were a family, and the man's quarters had become their home after all, the first real home they had ever had. And now he had a brother, a twin brother even, one that was a ghost, and now he couldn't walk anymore and now he was scared of what the others would say, or do.

Jamie had told him about what had happened in the Gryffindor tower and their dormitory, what Ron had done, and Dean and Seamus, and he knew that surely it wouldn't be easy, going back to Gryffindor. But still, again, he just had to try, because he also had heard that some of them had apologized, that some of them were on his side, and still, again, Harry found himself wishing that school didn't have to end, feeling reluctant to return to the Dursleys when summer came.

And he knew – so did his twin, Jamie.

Because he knew – they knew – after that fiasco of last summer holidays, uncle Vernon would be furiously mad and he would do all to get rid of him, of them, and he would stop no where to achieve that goal. Not to mention that he wouldn't even be able defending himself against his uncle, wouldn't be able running away even, that he'd be helpless without the ability of using his legs when he'd be back at the Dursleys.

But then – they were two now, and maybe they would stand a chance against uncle Vernon then?

But no – even in pairs, they'd die and they'd have to watch each other die. Would that really be better than dying alone? So – no, he didn't want school to end ever, now less than ever before, and never mind how much Jamie reassured him that he'd be always there, never mind how much Severus reassured _both_ of them that they never would have to go back to the Dursleys ever – he knew that it wasn't true.

Summer would come, school would end – and with it a dream.

Summer would come, but there would be no sunshine, no nothing but pain and fear and horror, and in the end death.

The man's hand on his forehead got him out of his scary thoughts and he looked up at the dark Potions Master, into black eyes that seemed so much warmer than what he was used to from the man's display in public.

"Thanks, dad." Jamie said and he tried to smile. He only succeeded however when the man lifted his eyebrow, this very eyebrow that had him nearly covering with fear last year, that had so many students retreating from the man – but now he didn't understand how this eyebrow could cause so much fear, it only was a raised eyebrow, it made the man looking less emotionless even, and it – it wasn't a dangerous weapon, honestly!

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

A sudden whisper swept through the Great Hall as all eyes turned to the three figures at the door, the dour Potions Master, his hands placed on – two Harry Potters who – _smiled_ at the dungeons git!

Severus glanced up and smirked.

As much as he had dreaded this very moment, entering the great hall with the two scared children on his coat-tails, _knowing_ that they would make an emotional fool out of him in public, in front of the student body even, this very moment was worth the days he would need to work on his reputation.

"You are welcome, sons, both of you." He said, ruffling both boy's already messy hair and first Jamie and then Harry batted his hand away playfully, their smile stretching into a grin and there actually was a collective intake of breath coming from the great hall before Jamie gave away a "'till later, Harry" and then turned to approach the Slytherin table while Harry looked up at him, Severus, unsurely, as if waiting for a nod of approval before he himself could accept the situation and everything that would happen from now on in his – new life, before he could jump into this adventure that awaited him at the Gryffindor table.

Giving away this nod the child was waiting for, he pushed the wheel-chair over to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the gasps and the nearly three hundreds of pairs of wide eyes watching them, following their ever movement while the hall was silent except of a few whispers here and there, his shoes meeting the floor and the soft sound the wheels of Harry's wheel-chair made on the stony floor.

Of course he knew that Harry could have pushed his wheelchair himself, they had practiced this after all, Jamie even had made a game out of this, hiding somewhere in the dungeons toegether with Draco, while Harry and Theodore had been searching for them, but he also knew how uncomfortable the child already was, not knowing where he would be welcomed, how he would get there exactly outside their safe quarters, outside the safety of their dungeons corridors, and in front of the eyes of all of the students, and so he had decided to help his son on this, at least for now, for this morning.

For a moment he gritted his teeth at the fact that he hadn't thought of where exactly to place Harry at the Gryffindor table as there were no chairs but benches to each side of the table, not to mention that he wasn't sure where the boy would like to sit or who of them would be comfortable enough to _not_ pull away from him, but then Longbottom waved them over and a moment later Granger who sat beside Longbottom waved too.

Well, so at least the question of who would not shy away from Harry's presence was solved and he approached them. A moment later he waved his wand at the bench between Granger and Longbottom and there appeared a break in the furniture, a break that slowly grew until there was enough space for the wheelchair to fit in and he pushed it into its place.

"I expect you to keep this sitting arrangement as long as either of you is comfortable with this as I have no intention of cutting this furniture into pieces until nothing of it is left." He said to the three, trying to find a way of sounding as mean and uncaring as possible for Granger and Longbottom while as caring as possible for Harry at the same time. He waited for a sign of his son that told him that he was comfortable and at the nod the boy gave away while looking up at him with his still too large green eyes he nodded back in return before turning.

He made a short stop at Weasley's seat though.

"And for you, Mr. Weasley, if I ever hear of you bullying either of my sons, then you better prepare for six years of painful, horrible and long detentions, daily detentions, Mr. Weasley." He softly said, his voice a threatening whisper, before he turned and approached the head table.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Merlin, was this really Severus? And where did this second child come from?

She had been a bit confused when Severus had sent her a short message with the words that she was to await his son Harry Snape back in her house by Monday morning, but that he would not sleep in the Gryffindor tower but in his, Severus, quarters for the time being, not understanding why the child would come back into her house.

And then, this very morning, there had been a message from the castle, informing her, a head of house and the deputy headmistress, that Hogwarts had installed a few elevators all around the castle floors. She hadn't understood why the castle would do such a thing and for a moment she hadn't even been sure that she had understood the castle correctly. It wasn't after all that the castle left a written note on her desk – it was more a feeling the castle installed in the headmaster and the four heads of houses if she chose to inform them about one thing or another.

And now Severus had entered the great hall with two children! With the ghost child and with a child in a wheelchair that looked so very much alike the ghost child – but that couldn't be, could it?

"Severus?" She asked when the man took his usual seat beside her.

"Yes, Minerva?" The man asked back as if he couldn't understand her question!

"What is the meaning of this, Severus?" She asked, still feeling confused. "How are there two children now and both looking the same?"

"You do realize, Minerva, that Harry wouldn't be alive anymore by now, do you?" Severus asked back and frowning Minerva nodded her head. Yes, she had been there when Poppy had told them that there only were a few days left, and now weeks had past even, but she hadn't paid much attention to it. As long as the child lived she didn't care if any prediction Poppy made really happened.

"We simply found a way to keep him alive, a feat that wasn't so easy actually, but as you can see, we have succeeded." Severus then added and she shook her head, not really understanding.

"That means … that means, these two children are … they are both Harry Snape?" She asked, trying to somehow comprehend the situation.

"Actually they are Harry and Jamie Snape." Severus said, his eyebrow lifted, while he poured himself a cup of coffee, as if nothing had happened and surely not the man appearing here with two children of his where he should have one only and not even of this child had they known until a few weeks ago!

"So … so they are – brothers?" She asked slowly, very slowly, but surely calming down from her initial shock.

"Actually, they are twins, Minerva." The blasted man calmly said while serving himself some of the scrambled eggs and a toast which he buttered, and she nearly was shocked again. It was a first, that the man actually partook in breakfast other than just drinking his cup of coffee each morning.

"And who is who, Severus?" Filius asked, the small teacher clearly excitet like he so often was. "Just so that we know."

"Well, the ghost-child who recently has entered my house, is Jamie Snape." Severus answered. "While, to you, Minerva, I present to you Harry Snape. And you, headmaster, do not even try to patronize either of them. They are both my sons and you will have to go through me with anything, even if it is just signing his school report. And I do mean this quite seriously, headmaster."

So that was it, the reason as to why she still had Harry Potter in her house, a child that was sitting in a wheelchair now, while Harry Potter had changed houses and had entered the Slytherin house – what a strange situation.

**Flashback**

_She had felt betrayed at first, by not only Severus, but by Harry too. She never had done something to hurt the child!_

_But then, well, she never had done something to help the child either, and she had known that the Dursleys were the worst sort of muggles possible, unfit for raising a wizarding child. So, if Harry felt safer and more comfortable in his father's house – well, then be it. _

_"You have heard my son." Severus said when Albus wanted to say something and even she could see that the child was growing restless and unease. _

_"Very well." Albus sighed and got off his armchair to approach the shelf on which the sorting hat was sitting since centuries and she could sense that there was more than just the old wizard's reluctance of agreeing to this re-sorting. While a re-sorting was nothing too uncommon, could happen once a century at least, Albus seemed to be against it, but she didn't see why the headmaster should, not in this case as it seemed Harry's wish and Harry had reasonably explained his interests._

_"Getting the chance of leaving this board twice a year now?" The hat asked even before Albus had approached him and she had the impression that the hat had clearly listened to their earlier conversation._

_"My apology for disturbing you, but …" Albus began, but the hat seemed to shake itself as if its wearer would have shaken his head, as if Godoric Gryffindor still were alive, wearing this piece of old cloth, and she always got goose bumps when it did this. _

_"I have already told you that – the boy is as much a Slytherin as he is a Gryffindor and if it were up to me, then he would have been in the house of the snakes since his first day as I have sorted him into Slytherin. I only have re-sorted him because it has been his wish." The hat said and she gasped. _

_Harry had been sorted into Slytherin before he had been sorted – or rather re-sorted – into Gryffindor? Harry would have been Severus' originally instead of hers? How so? And how …_

_"But then it is clear!" Albus smiled at them all. "Harry does not wish to …"_

_"Only because of misguided information, Dumbledore." The hat growled, cutting Albus off. "And I only allowed him because I knew that in the end he would land himself in Slytherin sooner or later anyway."_

_"In other words – there is no re-sorting necessary because Harry already always has been a Slytherin as well as a Gryffindor?" The Potions Master asked, his eyes narrowed at Albus' who apparently had known about that and she frowned at the two._

_Harry and the re-sorting aside, she always had known that Albus and Severus had gotten along very well. Albus was one of the few people Severus considered as a friend, beside her, Filius, Arthur – and Malfoy – and she also knew that Albus had considered the young man as a friend – as a son even – too, that he trusted Severus like he barely trusted anyone else. So – what was wrong between the two of them? _

_"Exactly, Snape." The hat agreed and then Severus did something that really startled her, placed his hand onto the boy's shoulder in a calming way while he looked down at the boy with his always so cold and hard black eyes – only that right now they were not cold or hard but warm and soft, comforting, black eyes that seemed to search the child's pale and ghostlike face, and for a moment she was sure that the man was close to even pulling the child closer and to protect him from whatever there was to protect him from, she nearly could picture the child hiding his pale face in Severus' robes!_

_A moment later however the magic between Severus and Harry was gone and - "Just to have all misunderstandings cleared – Harry might be a Gryffindor and he always might be one, but at the same time he actually is already a Slytherin and I can take him into my house to live in the Slytherin common room if he so wishes?"_

_"Exactly, Severus." The hat again agreed._

**End flashback**

Well, that had been this and that had been a really startling experience, nearly as startling as this here, having two Harries here suddenly, having a ghost and a disabled twin, one of them in Slytherin and one of them in Gryffindor, in her house, Severus having twin sons and one of them being a lion – yes, it had been nearly as startling as this here, nearly.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus started his breakfast, ignoring Albus' gasp and then his hurt looks while he watched both of his sons, one sitting at the Slytherin table and one sitting at the Gryffindor table. He knew that the man already was planning, scheming about how to use two Harries now, but he would not allow this and he would fight the headmaster all the way to hell and back if he had to.

But well, there would come the trial in foreseeable future anyway and he would manage fighting the man until then.

Jamie was sitting between Draco and Theodore who both smirked at him, surely already planning on pranks they now could play with a twin ghost in their midst. They both had visited Jamie and Harry a few times since they were living with him, and they actually had become more than just alleys, more than just classmates or house mates, they had become friends even, his snakes not caring that Harry still remained in Gryffindor. They actually had thought that some kind of fun and he only could groan at the thought of how the next six years would turn out, until they had graduated and left Hogwarts.

Harry was sitting between Longbottom and Granger, and even though it had been that blasted know-it-all who had read Harry's – or Jamie's – private thoughts, she had apologized and she really tried to make up for her mistake. That boy was not so confident as Jamie was, understandable, and he actually had to cast a strict glance at the boy until he served himself some scrambled eggs, a sausage and a piece of toast before the child looked over at the head table and at him again, as if asking him if he had done alright and he gave a small nod – while everyone stared at him open-mouthed, still, or again, he didn't know.

"So …" Harry began, softly, while he cut up a piece of his sausage. "How's life been?"

A moment later Longbottom, Granger and the Weasley twins that had come over with wide eyes and open mouths, that had seated themselves opposite Harry and Longbottom, shoving Ronald Weasley and Dean Thomas aside in the attempt, burst into laughter – and he groaned at the thought of how many hints _they_ would give his sons, concerning being twins and in desperate need of advise from long year twins like Frederic and George Weasley.

Well, all in all – he was satisfied with both boys' decisions, with Jamie's decision to stay in Slytherin and with Harry's decision to stay in Gryffindor and he smirked at Minerva who looked at him with her mouth open.

"I expect you to have an eye on this particular lion, my dear Minerva." He said while re-filling his cup with coffee, knowing that he would need the hot brewage for some next time. "If I ever hear that you have not, then be assured you will have a very angry parent on your neck."

"As long as you keep your sons under control, my dear Seveurs." The woman answered. "You know, having the Weasley twins at Hogwarts is one thing, but now the Snape twins too? I fear that they all will be a handful."

_The end_

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued in The boy that forgot to live<br>**

**Preview to The boy that forgot to live**

_He watched Potter sitting between Hermione and Neville, watched Snape sitting between Nott and Malfoy, and his anger grew. He'd been startled at first, not only at the fact that there suddenly had been two boys, two Harries, two Potters, Snapes, whatever they now were, but he also had been startled about one of them sitting in a wheelchair, whatever reason for. Also he was startled about the familiarity between Snape and the boys, and he didn't even know who those boys were, two of them!_

_And now he was sitting between Hermione and Neville, steeling these two from him too!_

_Of course Potter had stolen Hermione and Nevill from him long ago, weeks ago, the moment they had turned their backs on him by trying to speak with the Gryffindor turned Slytherin back Gryffindor or whatever he could name what was happening there right now, but that was not the point. The potint was, he was stealing them from him! Another thing he had stolen from him after he had embarassed him in front of the entire school with those stupid questions, had stolen his pride from him!_

_How he hated him!_

_And now even Fred and George were pushing him aside to sit between him and Dean, so that they could be sitting vis-à-vis the golden boy, taking Potter into their posession, taking Potter from him!_

_But he would not allow that!_

_He would NOT allow THAT!  
><em>

_Because Potter was his! Potter was his alone!  
><em>

_Behind the twins backs he signalled Dean to follow him. He didn't need having breakfast together with them, he rather would be planning on how he could get Harry back into his posession, and he knew that Dean would help him in this, Dean always had helped him with Harry, had kept the other boy in line for him, and together with Dean he would make Harry their slave, HIS slave, so that the other boy once and for all would be in their posession, in HIS posession, so that he once again would posess something his brothers hadn't had first! _

_Potter would belong to him! _

_He hated Potter, but he would belong to him!  
><em>

_He would belong to him, and to him alone, to do with him as he wished, to indulge his hate, to let off steam whenever Snape Senior annoyed him and to – simply posess him!  
><em>

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

340 Points - Slytherin

221 Points - Ravenclaw

205 Points - Gryffindor

156 Points - Hufflepuff

* * *

><p><strong>September 13th, 2013<strong>

**Dear readers,**

just wish to inform you about another story – "… and sit a while with me …" – which will shortly start on the Profile of mrs. trabi here on fanfiction.

you will find some known persons in this story, and you will find one or another known incident in the story because the author of the story is me, even though I am posting this story not on my own profile but on my daughter's, and for several reasons so – one of it being because it's a rather unique story compared to my others.

more details you will learn while visiting mrs. trabi's profile:

www fanfiction net /u/2473886/mrs-trabi


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